A Shot For Vengeance
by calla lilly rose
Summary: Robert Sheldon Sr. loved his son, and wanted revenge for the life his son lost. Johnny was already dead, there was only one person left to seek revenge from. Whatever the cost, he was willing to take it.
1. Vengeance

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter One

**Vengeance **

The weather was perfect, blue sky over head with a few puffy white clouds floating by. Just perfect for what was to come, as far as everyone in the stands and on the red clay track below thought to themselves. Warm up's were done. The runners took their marks, crouching low in their stances, muscles tightly wound like coils of a spring. Everything was quiet for a moment just before the starters pistol went off, then the group of eight boys...young men in the making, really, shot out of their respective starting blocks as the gun discharged.

They headed down the field, a separation in them beginning to happen as they made their way around the first turn. The group spread out, the fastest in the lead and the slowest bringing up the rear. They weren't separated by much, though, just slices off a second really. These were the fastest kids in the state, assembled here after much local and regional competition to determine who the fastest runner of all really was.

In the stands was the Lt. Governor, fulfilling a side duty to his daily responsibilities. He hated being out here in the sun, watching adolescents run around in circles. But the Governor couldn't attend, so he was officially asked to go. So here he was, a fake smile pressed to his sweaty face as he watched the kids running along below him from his VIP booth, just under the overhang that provided some semblance of shade.

Also in attendance- and more important to the actual athletes, were the family members. There were the regular friends who showed up for support, fellow track runners that didn't place high enough to compete, girlfriends with their own agenda's and, _most _importantly, scouts. _College _scouts. Everyone was here to impress.

The sound of a gun firing was heard again, and at that moment, confusion- followed by panic set in. Within the echo of that second shot ringing out, most of the runners didn't understand why the official with the starting gun would accidentally fire again, as they were already well past a false start situation. The runners had already gone well past the far curve of the track and were now headed up the longer side of the oval.

Another fraction of time passed and people set off in different directions, screaming in panic as everyone seemed to understand at that same instant that it _wasn't_ the official with the starter's pistol firing by accident. There was someone _else_ present, somewhere among them - taking aim at someone else, but no one knew who. Only the shooter knew who his target was, and that he had made his mark.

The aides to the Lt. Governor shielded him then pushed their way out of the open, into the cover of waiting cars to escape to safety. The runners themselves were diving under anything they could use for protection. Spectators headed in mass for the now- jammed exits out of the stands. Families of runners either stood in stunned confusion as to what was going on or were making bee lines to their young athletes, still crouching below on the track. One group of young men in particular ducked and wove their way through the crowds surging around them, then sprinted up the red clay to the youth sprawled face down on the ground, not moving. He had been the leader of the runners, was in first place position before a bullet lodged itself into his body. He was the only one hit that day, and hadn't moved in the few moments since falling face down onto the red track beneath his feet.

Soda reached him first, covering his brother with his own body and looking around for who ever had done this. Darry skidded to a stop and kneeled down too, looking closely at Ponyboy's ashen face before attempting to turn him over. The heavy breathing and pounding footsteps around them told them Steve and Two-Bit had arrived as well.

"Pony? Can you hear me?" Darry called to his brother, but no answer was given. As Darry and Soda turned him over, they saw the pooled blood under him, and noticed his teeth were stained with the red liquid of life as well.

"Oh Christ! Darry! Shit!"

Darry had stripped off his shirt, buttons flying in different directions as he ripped it off and pressed it against Pony's stomach. It looked like the bullet hit him just above the navel, but thankfully well below his heart. He still had a chance. Pony's eyes were open, and Soda looked directly into them. The pupils were so large, though, that all you could see was a slender ring of green around the huge black dots in the middle.

"Soda," Pony sputtered, bright red blood spraying Soda's cheek as he bent down to hear Pony's faint words.

"I'm here, Pony. We're all here. You're gonna be okay, you hear me kiddo? This ain't nothin." Soda was holding it together, he had no choice. Who ever had done this was not in sight, had probably joined the throngs of other spectators as everyone fled the stadium. An ambulance was coming across the field, along with the cops. Photographers, once bored by yet another high school track meet they had to cover, were now tripping over themselves to capture this gruesome moment in black and white photography. "This ain't nothin. Stay with me, kiddo. This ain't your time. _Damn it_, Ponyboy, you_ hear_ me? This _ain't _your_ time_!"

"I ca... can't feel my feet, Sss Soda." Pony went limp, and spoke no more.

The ambulance workers jumped out and pushed everyone away, scooping up the young runner and depositing him in the back of the ambulance. It happened so fast in fact that the brothers had been left behind, pushed away by well meaning emergency medical technicians who's sole focus was the young patient in their hands. Darry and Soda turned to the nearest cop demanding help, and was told to go to meet the ambulance at Oklahoma City General Hospital. A fast set of directions later, and the group of four peeled out of the stadium parking lot, headed North to the freeway that would lead them there.

"Who would do this?" a stunned Soda asked in general, staring at his brother's blood, now drying in small cakes under and along his nails as well as along the roughened skin of his hands.

"Robert Sheldon, Sr." Darry answered. Right away, everyone knew and understood. Sheldon said he'd get even, no matter what it took. Taking Ponyboy's life was the only thing he _could_ take. As the four arrived at the hospital, they wondered if Sheldon had finally accomplished what he set out to do. And if Sheldon hadn't actually _killed_ him, what condition would he be left in? The haunting last words Ponyboy spoke rang in everyone's ears...

"I can't feel my feet."

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	2. Message In A Bottle

Authors Note... All rights to anything The Outsiders related belong to SE Hinton. Sorry I forgot that before.

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 2

**Messages In A Bottle**

XXX

Robert Sheldon stood in silence over his son's grave, the bouquet of red and yellow chrysanthemums laying sadly out of place in the basket on the ground. His boy was nearly eighteen years old, or would have been if he had lived another few weeks. The senselessness of it ate at him, all he had done was go to the movies with his girlfriend and some of their school chums that night, why was he here now? Dead, from a stabbing? From some punk kid younger and smaller than he was no less? He took a swig from his whiskey flask and thought about it more.

So Bobby drank some that night. It was the weekend, big deal! Sure, he wasn't _old_ enough to be legally drinking alcohol, but hell, what kid wasn't? He was teaching his son to be a _man,_ and real men have to hold their liquor. _He_ did, his son would have to learn, too. He remembered the court case, sitting there in silence as Bobby's friends all turned on his son and said that Cade kid was only defending his friend that Bobby helped hold under in the fountain. So what? That kid probably _deserved_ it, Bobby wouldn't waste his time on something trivial. And he was sure Bobby would have let him up before anything happened anyway.

He had another swig from the flask and pondered that thought some more. Stupid kids from the East side of town, where poverty and crime ran rampant. It was always in the news about some gas station being robbed or some hoodlum getting in trouble over there. When those East Side juvenile delinquents were bored beating each other up, they had to cause trouble for good decent people like him and his family on the West side. Anger boiled up in him. Those kids all had it coming, but it was _his _boy who lay here in the ground. That Cade kid at least got it in the end. That other kid would get it too. If society wouldn't take care of it, he would. He owed his boy that much. He drained his flask of the last of the whiskey.

"Robert, please can we go home?" his wife called. She didn't like to be here, knowing her only baby lay cold and dead just under the surface of the ground. Bobby may have been seventeen, but to her, he would always be her sweet baby. It really didn't help that Robert had been drinking more than usual, ever since the trial that acquitted that other boy with the funny name. Bobby had already been gone from them for five long months, but Robert kept pulling her back to that day, reopening the pain Bobby's loss brought her.

"Woman, I'll leave here when I'm damn good and ready. Sit your ass back in the car and shut up."

It was the booze talking. She stepped closer and tried to take his arm.

"Robert, honey, I'm cold. Can't we..."

She never got to finish her plea. Robert Sheldon reared back and hit her across the face, smashing her onto the ground over their son's grave. From where she lay on the ground, she turned to look up at her husband, who stumbled over and picked up his flask, which had fallen from his hand when he hit her.

"Now you made me go and spill my whiskey. Well, get up, you wanted out of here so bad. Lets go." He stumbled between the headstones as he headed back to the car. She shakily picked herself up and brushed away the dirt, righting the mums again as they had fallen over when she fell on them. It wasn't the first time he had hit her. It probably wouldn't be the last. There were many secrets in many families.

She had hoped Bobby never knew how bad his daddy was when alcohol was in his system. Sitting in the court room that day, she knew the alcohol in Bobby's system was to blame for what he did to that boy that night. Alcohol was a mean devil to anyone under its influence. As she obediently made her way back to the car where Robert was waiting for her, she also knew Robert wasn't over it. This agony just wouldn't end. Her son was dead, that Cade boy was dead. Now Robert seemed like he wanted revenge from that other kid, the one with the odd name... _Ponyboy_. He was the one Bobby and the others held under in the fountain, yet Robert blamed him for Bobby's death.

She blamed herself for not being a better mother and wife. Maybe if she had done more, none of this wouldn't have happened. She eased herself into the car, sitting silently in the back passenger seat as he put it in gear and headed home. Her thoughts settled back to numbness.

His thoughts were on how to exact revenge.

XXX

"Well, you managed to get your grades back up. Good job, Pony." His report card lay in my hands, mostly "A's" with two "B's". I couldn't complain. He worked his rump off to bring those grades up to where they were. He was just about back to his old self now, the sadness of missing Johnny and Dal still there, but he was moving on. He smiled, ate and roughhoused with us as much as he used to. He was back in training for track, working harder at it now that the holidays were over. I quietly noticed he hadn't smoked in over two weeks, and I wondered if the rest of the guys had picked up on what was absent from the waistband of his jeans too.

Getting over his nicotine addiction was hard to watch, especially since he was obviously trying to hide it from me. Therefore, I couldn't say a word about it. His hands shook and he was always moving, unable to sit still. I even heard him tossing his cookies behind the bushes the other night while I was doing the dishes, he didn't know the window was open and I heard what was going on. As hard as it was for him to get over this, it was equally hard for me to sit back and watch in silence. He seemed determined to beat this, and I secretly applauded his effort. I just hoped when track season ended, he didn't go back to smoking.

"Thanks, Darry." He beamed at me, proud of himself for his good grades. I signed the report card and he shoved it back in his backpack so he wouldn't forget it for Monday. "Can I go to the movies? They're playing an Elvis flick down at the cinema."

"Get all your homework done?"

I noticed his roll of the eyes. "Yeah, it's all done. It's _Friday_, Darry... can I go?"

"Sure. I'll give you a ride. Lemme get my wallet." He grinned and headed for the door. What the heck - he's earned a movie, and with him out of the house, I had a few hours of peace and quiet. Soda was still working the evening shifts for a few more days. It paid more than the morning shift, and with Pony's hospital bills still coming in, we needed everything we could get.

"Here," I handed him a dollar as he hopped out in front of the theater. "Get some popcorn and a drink. I want my change back later. Don't think I won't ask for it, either!" I reached over and ruffled his hair - now that it was all his real color again, he finally looked like his old self. He had gone to the barber shop last week and had the last of that blond mess cut off his head. It was really short now, almost – dare I say it, a respectable length. I was sure he would let it grow longer again, but it would never be the same. He swatted my hand, and headed to the ticket window. I watched him go in, then headed back to the house.

XXX

I settled in my seat, drink in the cup holder, popcorn in my hand and a candy bar in my lap. I was all set. The lights went down and the picture started. It was a good movie... Elvis, some swinging songs, a cute girl and a tuff car. Before long, I was totally absorbed in the movie and forgot everything around me. Almost two hours later, the lights came back up and it was time to head home. I shoved the last of the popcorn kernels in the trash and slurped down the rest of my drink. Heading back outside, I looked around getting my bearings as my eyes adjusted to the sunshine.

I headed to the pay phone on the corner and called the house, hoping someone would give me ride home. It rang eight times before I gave up and put the receiver back down. _Wonder where Darry is_? I thought. I dialed Two-Bit's place and his sis picked it up on the second ring.

"Hey, is Two-Bit there?"

"Naw. He's out with his girl. Whacha want?"

"Never mind. Bye."

"Wait! Ponyb." I heard her call back at me as I hung up. Two-Bit had teased me that his kid sister liked me, but I wanted nothing to do with her. She's younger than me, and likes to talk. Not my style, and the whole gang knew it. Thankfully, she didn't come around our house. I'd hate to tell her in a very blunt way to leave me alone, considering she is Two-Bit's sis and all, but I would if she kept pestering me.

Finally, I took a deep breath and called Steve. I knew he was off from the DX tonight. He and I were getting along better, but I wasn't necessarily his 'Curtis of choice' to hang around with. It rang a few times and finally a voice on the other end picked up.

"Yeah? Randle house."

I groaned inside. By the sound of his voice, I knew it was his dad. This was not going to go over well.

"Mr. Randle, it's Ponyboy Curtis. Is Steve there by chance, sir?"

"No, he ain't here. I ain't his messenger, either. He practically lives at your house, when you see him, then you can tell him what you got to say." Click.

Well, that went better than I thought it would. I hung up the receiver and sighed. Looks like I was hoofing it. Not the first time, but I wasn't feeling too hot about it, either. Still, it was the only thing left to do, so I headed across the street and started my way home.

Once I crossed the back of the shopping center and headed down the tracks, I had that eerie feeling I was being watched. Right away, my heart started thumping in slow throbs in my chest, and I could feel the hairs stand up on my neck. I looked around, but saw no one. Just cars of various makes and models passing by overhead. Nothing unusual. Still, that feeling wouldn't go away. Fingering my back pocket, I realized I left my blade at home. There was an old beer bottle laying nearby and I picked it up, draining the stagnant liquid from it on the ground as I walked along.

It seemed even the birds stopped chirping, everything was so quiet. My feet crunched the gravel as I sped up my pace, finally making it back to my neighborhood. Sweat was absorbing in the waistband of my jeans as I left the tracks and crossed back onto the streets a few blocks from my house. I kept looking around, but even though I _saw_ no one, I could _swear_ someone was following me. Creepy. And it wasn't just the nicotine withdrawal's I was finally getting over, either. I was looking behind me again while walking around the last corner to my house, when I ran smack into someone I didn't see coming my way.

"Gosh, mister, I'm sorry!" I apologized before realizing who it was.

"Damn, Ponyboy, why doncha look where the hell you're going? And don't be calling me 'mister', either. What's up with the beer bottle, kid?"

I looked at Steve and then back behind me, scanning the streets again. I knew someone had been there, but they were gone now. "Oh hey, Steve. Sorry bout that." I tossed the bottle in the brush on the corner, not aware how tight I had been holding it until I let it go. "Hey, did you see anyone there?"

He looked up in the direction I came from, but like me, he saw nothing. He shook his head. "Kid, you better get home. Darry's been waiting on you. Have you been drinking?" He looked at the bottle I tossed aside then back at me, standing closer - I assumed to try to smell alcohol on my breath.

"No, I ain't been drinking. Not unless you count Pepsi at the movies, 'drinking'. Watch out, I gotta get home and take a leak. I drank a super large over three hours ago, and my kidneys are practically swimming!"

He followed me into the house, where fish and coleslaw lay wrapped in foil on plates on the table.

"Ponyboy, where have you been? Don't tell me you walked home from the movies? Didn't I tell you something once upon a time about calling someone?"

He didn't even give me a chance to pee in peace, following me in to read me the riot act as I drained my bladder. When he stopped for air, I gave him my version.

"I DID call. No one answered here. I then called Two-Bit and got his hormonally challenged sister on the phone. She said he wasn't home either. Then I gave Steve there a try," I jutted my chin at Steve who was plopped down in the sofa able to hear and unfortunately _see_ everything going on. Privacy didn't exist in the Curtis house, that was long ago established. A house full of boys rarely held private corners. "But his dad cheerfully said I could give him my message when I saw him again, right before hanging up on me. Out of options, I walked home." Finished with both my speech and my bladder, I zipped both my lip and my pants. Washing my hands, I glanced at Darry, who obviously looked like he was out of things to say.

"Next time, try the house again. Anyone bother you?"

I debated telling him about feeling like I had been followed, but I shook it off. I had no proof, hadn't seen anyone anyway, and it was probably my imagination acting up in the first place. "No. It was fine."

Steve glanced at me, giving me a look but said nothing. I still hadn't explained the bottle, and he seemed to have forgotten it.

"Well, this has been entertaining, but I got to go. Say hey to Soda for me when he gets in, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure thing Steve. Thanks for going out for me."

"No sweat, Darry. Later, kid!"

"Bye Steve." I headed into the kitchen to get a plate, and Darry followed me in.

"No one bothered you? You're sure?"

I was beginning to wonder if he knew something I didn't, but shook it off. "No one bothered me. I told you that already. Why?"

He hesitated, not giving up whatever he knew. I grabbed a glass and made a drink, then sat down to eat. He watched me, then sat down too.

"Something going on I need to know about?" I asked, not liking this silence.

It persisted a hair longer, then he shook his head. "No, nothing. I just don't want you walking alone around town if you can help it. Got me?"

He was hiding something behind those eyes of his. Experience has taught me that the more I bug him about stuff, the less likely I will get anything from him. Soda was the one who could get anything from him. When he came home, I would get to the bottom of this.

"Okay. You know, if you got me a dog, you wouldn't have to worry so much."

"The only dog you can get is one that doesn't eat, will never need a vet, won't shed or ever make a mess in the house." He got up and headed back to his room. I knew I wasn't gonna get a dog, but it was fun to pester him about it.

XXX

I had oil all over my clothes. I knew these pants were ruined, and Darry was getting nuttier about having to replace my clothes now that Pony was also needing new clothes too. He had hit a growth spurt, and my old jeans weren't fitting him right anymore. He was gonna be as tall as me, if not taller in a few years.

I stumbled on the porch, blind as a bat thanks to our front light bulb being burned out. There was no moon out either, and it was so dark, you couldn't even see your hand in front of you. "What the..." I stumbled over something left right in the middle of the porch, right in front of the door. I caught myself before I fell, and reached down for whatever it was. A bottle. _Two-Bit_! I went inside, carrying it with me and sat it on the table.

"Hey, I'm home!"

Darry stuck his head out of his room. "Hey Soda, how was work?"

"Same as usual. Where's Two-Bit?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen him all day. Why?" Darry stood against his open door way, looking at me down the hall. Pony came out of our room, holding yet another one of his novels in his hand.

"Moron left this on the porch. I nearly escaped having my head go through the window tripping over it." I pointed at the bottle, then went to wash my hands. I noticed Pony staring at the bottle, looking a bit pale.

"You say that was on the _porch_?" he asked.

"Yup." I had my hands thick in soap scrubbing the grease off me.

Pony went to the table, muttering in a low tone. "He's got one sick sense of humor."

I curiously watched him, and Darry came out too. I wanted to see what the hullabaloo was about... it was just an old beer bottle, a _really_ old beer bottle. Two-Bit must have forgotten it. Pony was staring at it, a mix of dread and anger on his face. Darry noticed the paper wrapped up in it like a scroll and shook it out. Opening it up, in red letters, were a few words.

"This won't save you later."

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	3. Signature

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 3

**Signatures**

XXX

"Okay folks, what have we got here?" the man in the green scrubs asked to the other men in the tiny room filled with too many people.

"Fourteen year old male with an unknown caliber single gunshot wound to his abdomen. Patient has been unresponsive to all stimuli since medics arrived on scene. Blood pressure low, heart rate high. Pupils are reactive to light, though. At least his brain still works, for now at least."

Three nurses were bouncing around the ER bed, hooking him to monitors and putting IV's into him. Other folks were there too, everyone doing something to the kid on the table. At this point, they weren't even sure who the young teenager was, only that his life was hanging by a thread and they were doing everything they could to save it. The hospital staff had only been told there was a shooting at the stadium and the Governor was involved. Communication was poor, to say the least. Just to add to the chaos, the police started to show up, as well as the infernal members of the press. The doctors ignored what was going on behind the scenes, concentrating only on the youth laying unresponsive in front of them.

"Call the surgeons. Let's get this boy to the operating room STAT. His golden hour is about up."

XXX

_Three Months Earlier:_

I was in the hardware store, buying some junk that the wife had been nagging me about, when I happened to see that kid come out of the theater across the street. _That_ kid_._ My blood began to boil the instant I recognized him. His hair was different than it was at court, but it still had that oily sheen in it that gave him away as one of _those _hoods from the East side of town. I watched as he made some phone calls, then headed out toward the rail road tracks. I thought of Bobby, knowing how, if not for _that_ kid, my son would still be here. I bought what was on the counter, and headed out.

From a hidden spot on the overpass, I watched him strolling along, not a care in the world. He walked right under me, then kept on going. Suddenly, he stopped and looked around, then I noticed how he picked up his pace. Something tipped him off that he wasn't alone, that or he had good instincts. Not long after, he bent over and grabbed that bottle, held it close, kept it at his side.

I kept tabs on him as he walked all the way back to his neighborhood - from a distance though, so he wouldn't see me. I even drove past him as he dropped that bottle, then watched as he went on inside a house I assumed was his. I went around the corner and circled back, waiting a few minutes before retrieving that same bottle from the pile of leaves from the side of the road, then drove off. I'd come back later, when no one would see me. I wanted to scare the little prick, make him live with fear for a while. Then I'd take him out. I hadn't figured out how, but I would.

XXX

"What does this mean?" Darry was shaking the paper at me, the red words mocking me in a way.

"I swear, Darry, I have no idea." I couldn't take my eyes off that paper.

"Ponyboy?" Soda's voice even questioned my honesty.

"I swear! I don't know. Honest guys."

Darry looked pissed. Soda looked worried. I was getting angry.

"Why don't you believe me? I haven't done nothing to get on anyones bad side since... well, since _then._ I've kept out of trouble. I really don't know what this is about. I thought Steve left it on the porch, he saw me with the bottle when I came home. I thought he was playing a joke."

"And what in hell were you doing with a bottle of beer?"

"I wasn't drinking it!" I said icily.

"Pony, Darry, stop! Darry, look, even if Pony was gonna drink, WHICH I'M SURE YOU WEREN'T," he looked right at me when he emphasized that, "this nasty bottle is older than Christmas. Why were you carrying the bottle, Pone?"

I looked at Soda, calming down thanks to his seeing reason where Darry wouldn't. Darry also seemed to be settling, but he was still riled. I was honest, knowing it might be the _only_ thing to save my neck at this point.

"After I left the movies and was on my way home, I got this creepy feeling like I was being followed. I kept looking around, but I never saw anyone. I'd left my blade here, so when I saw that bottle, I grabbed it and hung onto it in case I needed it. I sure as heck didn't drink anything out of it! Once I got around the corner, I ran into Steve, _literally_ ran into him. He saw me ditch the bottle, then I came home. I thought he was trying to play a prank by leaving the bottle on the porch. But, this," I pointed at the paper, "goes beyond Steve. He wouldn't do this."

I looked at them. Soda had this fierce look in his face, his eyes angry but his face showing no emotion. Darry, on the other hand, looked madder than I had seen him in months. I wasn't sure exactly why they were angry at me... I didn't cause any trouble, but somehow I always ended up in it. They both were speechless. I looked down at that paper still in Darry's hand.

"You were_ followed_ home?" Darry finally asked in a quiet but threatened tone.

"I _told_ you, I kept looking around, but I never saw anyone."

He looked at me again, then relaxed some. He dropped the paper on the table, and laced his fingers together behind his neck, flexing his arms some.

"Well, who ever followed you obviously wanted you to get this. I don't like it. You don't go out alone, Ponyboy. Not until I get to the bottom of this. Understood?"

He didn't have to tell me twice. I hated being under supervised house arrest, but that look in Darry's eyes told me I better comply with whatever he asked of me.

"Yeah, Darry. No problem."

"Good. Go get ready for bed."

I nodded, then went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Something was still off, but I didn't know what. It was like doing a giant jigsaw puzzle and not having all the pieces. What ever it was, I hoped Darry would figure it out and take care of it. I was tired of having chaos surround me. I had finally gotten my life back in order, and I planned to keep it that way.

XXX

"Darry, what's this about?" I hissed at Darry as soon as Pony was behind the closed bathroom door. "You know Pony wouldn't be out drinking, besides... there's beer in the fridge..."

"I know he wasn't drinking, Soda. That isn't what concerns me, right now. Something spooked Pony- enough for him to want that bottle as a weapon. And if he gets spooked _that_ bad, then whatever it is, it isn't good. Someone's got balls of steel to leave that bottle on our porch, too. How many more nights are you working late this week? I don't want him home alone, not until I find out what's going on."

"Tomorrow and Monday. Then I go back to regular hours again for a bit. I'll get in touch with Two-Bit, have him come over and keep Pony company until you get off work until this … whatever this is, blows over. Darry, what is it you ain't telling me. Even you don't spook like this."

He looked at me, then at the closed bathroom door that Pony was still behind.

"After I got back from dropping him off at the movies, I got a strange call from some woman who didn't give her name. She said to watch out for Ponyboy, that she was worried for him. Then she hung up."

Looking at that bottle and the note laying beside it on the table, I felt a chill run up my spine.

XXX

A week had passed by, with nothing else weird happening to me, or things showing up where they shouldn't. Darry had calmed down, but I could tell he wasn't over it. Steve adamantly denied having anything to do with that bottle... and I believed him. I never thought he'd do this in the first place. I wondered if maybe Curly was messing with me, but Tim had him doing stuff so I hadn't caught up with him to ask. Then I finally let it go, forgetting the whole thing as the weather started to warm up and other things preoccupied my thoughts.

I found Coach in his office during my lunch break one afternoon, sitting behind a mountain of books and papers piled on his desk. I've been in here enough to know he hated anything having to do with the written part of coaching. He usually left it to Mark, his assistant, to deal with. I had already knocked once on the door frame, but he didn't hear me. I knocked again, louder, and he looked up.

"Hey, coach, may I come in?"

"Ponyboy! Sure son, come on over and cop a squat. What can I do for you?"

I sat in the hard vinyl chair in front of his desk, and he came around to sit on its corner in front of me.

"I was wondering if I could still go out for track tryouts."

He hesitated, then glanced over at the picture on the wall. We had made it to Regionals last year, falling just short of the times for the State competition. I had a cold then, and felt like I had cement shoes on my feet. He never blamed me – no one did, but I always felt I could have done better.

"How have you been feeling? It hasn't been that long since you were really under the weather. I thought you would be sitting this year out."

The events of last fall were known to him in detail, but he kindly made it sound less than it was. I appreciated it. "I thought I would be out too, but I've been working hard. I've been getting back in shape, even quit smoking. Haven't smoked a single stick in over a month. I really would like to try out, sir, if you'll let me."

He squirmed while sitting on the edge of his desk, finally crossing his arms. "It really isn't up to me. Get your guardian to sign the consent form, and I'll give you a shot - same as everyone else who comes to try out." He leaned forward closer to me. "Between you and me though, have you still got the speed, Ponyboy?"

I smiled. "I think so. I haven't had anyone time me in ages, but I'm game for a quick spin on the track if you are, sir."

He looked over at his desk, piled high with papers, then reached for his stopwatch and ball cap. "Come on, lets go see what you can do."

I changed clothes in the locker room while he waited at the door, and we headed outside into the cool mid-day sun. I did a few stretches to warm up, prancing a bit to get some spring in my legs. Finally, he had me take my mark on the faded white line, raised his cap, got the stopwatch ready and called out....

"GO!"

Like a shot from a cannon, I was off and running. The curve was a blinding mass of red clay and white lines indicating lanes. I wished I had someone to race against, my times were always better when I had competition, but this was just for Coaches benefit - and to satisfy my own curiosity too. I headed up the backstretch feeling the ground flying beneath my feet, the rhythmical pounding of my shoes on the ground below echoing like a metronome. I rounded the other end of the oval and really pushed out my stride as I approached the spot where the coach was waiting. I didn't slow my pace until I passed him, then finally pulled back, eventually coming to a stop. Coach headed toward me, smiling as usual.

"Get your brother to sign the form, Ponyboy... and I don't think there will be a problem having you return to the team."

"Great...." _pant, pant, pant.._. "What's my time?" I had my hands on my knees, bent like a tripod while my breathing returned to normal.

"Let's just say it matched your times from last year. Go take a fast shower and get back to class. I think your lunch break is almost over." He clapped me on the shoulder, and showed me the stopwatch. Even I had to grin.

"Think we'll make it to State this year, Coach?" I asked as he handed me a towel from the stack before I headed in to shower and he turned the corner back to his office.

"Curtis, with you, anything is possible. Go on now, I don't want you late for your Chemistry class."

He knew my schedule, mine and a few others. Everyone on the "A" squad had to hand in our schedules to him first thing of the year, even though track practice didn't officially start until after the holidays. He always wanted to know where to find us when he needed us.

XXX

I looked around the living room as I came out from doing my homework. Darry was lifting weights on the living room floor while Soda was spotting him from the couch. Not that he needed it, Darry could easily bench press me over his head if he wanted to. He'd done it before, just to prove he could. Then again, I wasn't really bulky in the first place.

"Hey, kiddo. Get your homework done?" Soda glanced over at me then looked back at Darry.

"Yeah. I'm finished." I sat down in the armchair and watched for a bit, then Darry finally put the barbell down and sat up.

"How old were you when you started doing that, Dar?" I asked for no real reason.

He smirked, wiping the sweat off his face looking at me. "I dunno, maybe your age when I started getting interested in weights. I didn't get serious about it until tenth grade... when I realized the better bulk I had, the better I did in football. Why?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering. Darry, I need you to sign my permission slip for track this year."

He looked at me, that look that said I was asking for the moon when all I wanted was really so much less. "Ponyboy, are you even in shape for it?"

"My time around the track today matched my time from my meets last spring, and I wasn't even warmed up or anything. I just want a chance. Coach is counting on me. It might help with scholarships...."

I knew tossing in the old scholarship hat would entice him to see it my way. He finally nodded. "Fine, if you want to give track another try and you think you're in shape well enough for it, then be my guest. Get me the forms, and I'll sign them. You'll have to have another athletic physical, though... don't forget. I remember how much you enjoyed that last year." He smirked while I scowled. That had been my first athletic physical, and he let me go into it blind, not telling me what was gonna happen. I was red from embarrassment all day. "If you're still serious, I'll call and get an appointment scheduled for sometime next week."

"Yeah, go ahead." I pulled out the form from my back pocket and he read it over, then signed it.

"Okay, kiddo. Guess you're gonna need new track shoes too, that means one of us," he momentarily glanced up at Soda, "is gonna need to put in either more hours or overtime."

"Don't worry about it, Darry. I can squeeze a few extra hours in on Sunday working with Steve. You better do good, Pony," he smiled at me, shoving me back some. I knocked his hand away and launched myself on him, wrestling with him as Darry got out of the way. Finally, Soda had me in a lock, and I couldn't move.

"Uncle!" I hollered, giving up.

"You better run better than you wrestle, you hear me, squirt?"

"Yeah, whatever!" He let me up and I put the signed form away. I'd give it to coach in the morning, eager to get back on the field when the try-outs begin next week.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

Readers... I have decided to change the title, knowing I was using a title already in use was driving me nuts. My apologies for the confusion... this is still a learning process for me! Calla


	4. Eyes In The Dark

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 4

**Eyes In The Dark**

**XXX**

The shade of the elm trees camouflaged me well. No one saw me. I'd been sitting here for an hour now, watching the events unfold below me on the red oval track. I had tried to get that boy of mine into sports, but he'd washed out of football, and hated running. He tried out for the baseball team, but walked away from it after I spent all that money on his uniforms. If he played anything, it was basketball in the fall, but that only lasted six games until they found him and his girl in the locker room. He insisted they weren't doing anything, but the coach booted him from the team anyway. Stupid boy.

My attention returned to the field when I finally spotted him. He was shorter than most of the other runners, but when they took off, even I was surprised at his speed. Kid could run, that's for sure. His group finished their laps around the track and I watched as he returned to the infield so another group of kids could have a turn at the oval. He sat in the grass and watched, leaning over to talk with another kid wearing the same jersey he wore. He was smiling while watching his fellow classmates around him, never realizing someone else was watching _him_.

A whistle sounded, and the kids all got up, huddled around the coach a while, then they all broke up, headed off in different directions. I thought I had my chance, but just then some other kid walked over to him, and together they walked away, playfully shoving each other as they left the field. They both climbed in some rusty old car with a paint job so ancient, I couldn't tell what color it was, and off they went. I smiled... realizing that bottle I'd left had made its intended impression. The kid wasn't walking alone quite so much. I'd been watching him for a week now, and he hasn't been by himself yet. Fine, I could wait. He'd eventually be left alone again. And I'd be waiting. I got back in my car and headed back to work.

XXX

I pulled into my driveway amazed the cops weren't here. The stereo was on full blast inside the house, I could even hear the thump of the bass from the truck. I made it to the porch in three strides and yanked the door open.

"Ponyboy Curtis!" I yelled, but it did no good. I could barely hear myself over the music. I turned the volume down then hit the power switch, killing the music entirely.

"Ponyboy, where the blazes are you?"

I waited, but got no answer. I did hear, though, the sound of laughter coming from the back yard. I dropped my tool belt on the table and headed out the rear door, finding both Pony and Two-Bit in the backyard.

"I'm telling you, Two-Bit... you ain't gonna get that thing to work. It hasn't been started since last summer!"

"Aww, shush it, kid. I can get it to work... just needs more gas, that's all."

"What the heck are you doing with my lawnmower, Two-Bit?"

My booming voice had to have scared him, cause he stood up so fast that he whacked his head on the low hanging branch of the oak tree .. the branch Pony was sitting on. That resulted in Pony losing his balance, falling backwards off the branch, sprawling on all fours on the ground. Pony was chuckling, Two-Bit was rubbing the back of his head, and I stood there shaking my head at both of them, trying hard not to even smile.

"Oh, hey Darry. Just thought we'd get some chores done around here for you."

"Heyyy, what's with the 'we' part there? I never said _I _was gonna mow the grass. You only asked where the mower _was_." Pony stood up, smiling, brushing the dirt and dead grass from him.

"And you had to tell him? Two-Bit, give me that before you start a fire." I took the gas can from him, knowing he had probably overfilled the mower's engine already. I put the can back in the shed and re-capped the gas tank on the mower, pushing it back into the shed too.

"It ain't time to mow the grass. Hell, Two-Bit... it's not even March yet. When do_ you_ mow _your_ yard?"

"Me? Mow?" he asked, pointing at himself.

"Never mind. Ponyboy, have you finished your homework yet?"

"Yeah, most of it. I have a little algebra still to do, but I needed a break."

I locked the shed and headed back into the house. "I don't know how you can study with the stereo on as loud as it was. Just cause the knob goes all the way to twenty doesn't mean you automatically turn it there. Understand?"

"I didn't turn it on until I was done, but sure thing, Darry. I'll stop at nineteen from now on!" He jumped the steps and went inside before I could process what he said.

That smirk on his face was infuriating. I wondered if I was this bad to our parents when I was fourteen. Somehow, I doubted it.

"Well, I guess I better get on home now, make sure there ain't no little slick greasers hanging around my place. Same time tomorrow, kid?"

"See ya in the morning, Two-Bit," Pony grinned and chucked him on the arm as Two-Bit got his jacket and headed out.

"Pony, you had your break, now go finish your homework."

"Sure thing, Darry. Oh, by the way, I made it back on the track team. Practice starts tomorrow, we meet like we did last year, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday's after school. I'm gonna be getting home late those days...just so you know."

"Sure, Ponyboy, whatever. Now go do your homework." I brushed him off and he headed down the hall. I got busy with dinner, totally forgetting that bottle, the phone call and most of all, that threat. I'd regret it later.

XXX

Man, my legs were burning! Coach had us out on this two mile run, and I could tell I still had a ways to go to get back to my old condition. I was good on the short sprints, but these distance runs were still doing me in. I tried not to show it, but I don't think it would have mattered. I heard more than one groan from my fellow team mates around me. At least we were all suffering together!

Coach had us off the track too, running around the dirt path that went around the school. Part of that path took us onto the main road, but traffic was never a problem. Enough signs were posted about runners and students... there had never been a single incident before. No one was worried... we were too busy feeling the pain in our legs than to think of cars that never came. Finally the slope of the hill leading back down to the track loomed ahead, and as a group we picked up the pace, knowing after the hill was the finish line, and the chance each of us had to rub the pain from our calves. I, for one, looked forward to it. This told me, though, I still had a lot of work to do to get ready for meets in March.

One by one we crossed the finish line, then made our way to the infield where Coach was waiting by a table with little cups of water. I grabbed one and chugged it, glad to finally have something wet in my throat again.

"Okay, you guys. That was less than par. Nineteen minutes, twenty seven seconds. Next time, I want it faster. Anyone not able to finish in less time will need to see me. You boys know you have to practice on your own time, too. Questions?"

Heck, we were all to busy trying to get air in our lungs than to speak, so we all stayed quiet. All you heard was the panting of the twenty or so of us out here.

"Good. Now go hit the showers. Dismissed."

I headed over to the bleachers to get my books and head home. Two-Bit was supposed to meet me, but he'd told me at lunch that something came up with his sis and couldn't make it.

"That's okay, Two-Bit... looks like it's gonna be a good afternoon for a walk. Besides, the coach is planning to run us ragged, I could use the walk to cool down afterward."

"You sure you don't want me to find you a ride with someone else, Pone? Darry was sort of adamant that you not walk alone for a while. I dunno what his issue was, but I don't want to end up on his pissed list. Know what I mean, kid?"

"Hey, nothings happened in so long... besides.. I'm sure it was either Curly or someone else playing a joke on me that night. It's over, don't worry about it. Besides, if you don't tell Darry I went on alone, he ain't gonna know. "

"What happened, anyway?"

I forgot, no one had told him. "Nothing major. Just something stupid." The bell rang and I had to get going, so I called over my shoulder as I headed back to class, "Tell ya about it later. Bye, Two-Bit!"

"See ya, kid"

So I was walking alone, the mile and a half to my house, enjoying the clear blue sky and the cool breeze that betrayed the coming warmer weather. I was hot and sweaty, still wearing my running sweats with my regular clothes shoved in my bag with my books. I had to have been nearly half way home when that feeling came back - a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I turned around just it time to see a blue Mustang turn left off the road I was on. It was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I just knew it didn't belong in my neighborhood. I waited another few seconds to see if it would return, but it didn't. I didn't need a reminder to get my feet moving, and made it home in record time without seeing that Mustang again.

XXX

Pony was quiet. He made lasagna, which surprised me. I was usually the daring one in the kitchen, but he was fully involved with it when I came in this evening.

"Hey, Ponyboy. Whacha cooking?"

"Hey Sodapop. Lasagna. Or trying to. I can't really remember how dad used to make it, but it looks right, anyway."

I washed the grease off my hands and dipped my finger in the sauce. "Tastes right. Need any help?"

He never looked up, staring hard at the boiling pasta and simmering meat sauce in the two pots on the stove. Funny though, he was concentrating on it so much, I wasn't sure he was really seeing it.

"You okay, Pone?"

"Yeah, fine. And no, I think I got this. Thanks."

I whacked his back and headed out to the bathroom. "Okay then. I'll be out in a few minutes."

He was equally silent at dinner, eating slower too. Tasted fine to me, but I would have put in more cheese. Still, not bad.

"How was practice today, Ponyboy? Those shoes fitting you okay?"

Darry and I looked at him, but he was staring hard at his plate.

"Ponyboy?" Darry's louder than usual voice snagged his attention.

"Huh?" he looked up at us. It was obvious he hadn't heard a word all night.

"Practice? How was it?" Darry asked again.

"Oh, good," he took a gulp of his juice and seemed to return to the here and now. "Coach had us do the two mile distance today. We weren't that great. I'm gonna go again tomorrow after school and run it on my own, Some of the others said they will be there too. Next week, knowing Coach like I do, he'll up it to the three miler."

Darry was looking at him. "You say there will be others out there, too?"

He nodded his head. "Should be. Adam and Ben said they were gonna join me. If we don't get this practice in, we wont be ready for the three mile run that I know the coach has planned. Okay?"

"As long as there are others out there with you. Two-Bit bring you home okay?"

"I got home alright, Darry."

I noticed that wasn't _exactly_ what Darry had asked, but I'd save it for tonight when we could talk alone.

Darry started asking me about my schedule, and as I rambled off about what my hours were, I noticed Pony had returned to that far off glance he had earlier. Something was bothering him. I'd have to find out what.

XXX

"See ya, Steve."

I heard the front door close and Soda head toward the bedroom. Darry had long ago gone to his room, but the light on under the door told me he hadn't gone to bed yet. He was usually the last one to go to sleep, unless he was bone tired. I guess it was a guardian thing. I looked up when Soda came in.

"Thought you would be out by now, ain't you tired?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I had to finish up some work, then couldn't sleep. Thought if I read some, I'd get sleepy."

Soda changed from his jeans to his pajama bottoms and crawled under the covers. I flipped off the light and lay down, wishing I could get that blue Mustang out of my mind. I couldn't figure out where I had seen it before. There wasn't anything special about it, but it bugged me.

"What's got you all distracted, Pone?"

I turned my head. Soda was leaning on his elbow, looking at me.

"Did Darry ever figure out who left that bottle on the porch a few weeks ago?"

"He hasn't mentioned anything about it. Why? Something else happen?"

"Not exactly."

"Ponyboy, don't keep secrets from me. Now what happened?"

"Nothing happened, it's just... I saw a Mustang in our neighborhood today and I can't get it out of my head. I could swear I've seen it before, but I can't place it."

"Did you see the driver? How many were in the car?"

"Whoever was driving had already turned. I only saw part of the car, but I knew it was a Mustang. A blue one."

Soda was quiet a moment, then laid his hand on my shoulder.

"Pone, did Two-Bit bring you home from school today?" his tone was not really one of a question, and I was too tired to lie.

"No. I walked. He had something come up at the last minute with his sister, had to split before school let out. I swear, if he keeps on missing class, he's gonna get held back again."

"He ain't my concern, and besides, he knows if he keeps cutting what will happen. Why didn't you call me to give you a ride after practice?"

"Aww, Soda. I've walked home by my lonesome many times before. I don't want to live my life afraid of every corner I turn. I ain't chicken, and don't want to become one, either. Besides, you were at work. Your boss ain't gonna pay you for picking me up. I don't want to be anyones special case. I got home fine. You gonna tell Darry?"

He lay back down, that look of concern etched in his eyebrows.

"No, I guess not. Pony, you just be careful, okay? I don't know if that message in that bottle was someone's idea of a joke or if something else is going on, but don't let your guard down. You call me or Darry if something don't feel right. Don't worry about my boss, your safety is more important. Okay, Kiddo?"

"Sure, Soda. And I _am_ careful. I may be young, but I ain't stupid."

"Right, genius. Goodnight."

Soda turned on his side and fell silent. I watched the stars out my window for a while, letting their soft twinkle lull me to sleep.

XXX

Down on the corner, under the broken street lamp, idled a blue mustang, the same blue mustang that had prowled this neighborhood less than seven months before, with a different driver behind the wheel then. The driver this night silently watched the house as a light in one room went out, then fifteen minutes later another room went dark. The house was still. The only noises left in the neighborhood were a few dogs barking and the sounds of a muffled argument hidden in someone else's four walls. That reminded him, it was time to go home and face his wench of a wife, and listen to all her nagging questions. He started the engine and drove off.

Two miles down the road, the flashing blue lights behind him forced him to stop. He cursed like a sailor as the police officer came to his window.

"License and registration, please sir."

Obediently, he handed over the documents and the officer returned to his car. After a few tense minutes, the officer returned to the drivers door. Taking a long deep breath, the officer finally spoke.

"Mr. Sheldon, I pulled you over because you seem to be driving somewhat erratic tonight. Have you had anything to drink sir?"

He thought of the flask, knowing he had drained it less than an hour ago.

"At my son's grave. My boy died not long ago, his grieving mother can't even bear to leave the house still. No parent should have to bury their son, don't you agree, officer?"

The officer swallowed, somewhat taken aback.

"No, Mr. Sheldon. That's a hard cross to carry. I'll let you go with a warning tonight, sir. Drive with greater care in the future, and leave the alcohol alone until you are home. Have a safe night, sir."

The officer tipped his hat and returned to his patrol car, and a grinning Robert Sheldon pulled back onto the road.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	5. Hit And Run

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 5

**Hit And Run**

XXX

"Ponyboy, you are GOING to be LATE! Get in here!"

The strength behind Darry's voice told me to get a move on or else, but I had to find what I was looking for first. I wasn't leaving the house again without it... at least not until this feeling I was getting went away. I had already rifled through my desk, searching quickly through all four drawers, becoming amazed at all the stuff I had shoved in here and then forgotten, when I gave up and turned my attention to my nightstand.

There it was, in the bottom drawer. I picked it up and held it in my hand, feeling its sleekness again for the first time in months. I'd stopped carrying it, seeing first hand what damage these could inflict had warded me off them, but I realized last night that Soda was right. My safety came first. I found the small clip on the side and pressed it, the metallic clicking sound the spring made as the steel blade was ejected from the sheath gave me little comfort, but I just wasn't going to rely on finding discarded bottles anymore. I closed the knife and shoved my switchblade in my back pocket and headed to the kitchen.

"Bout time! Hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah... I know." I looked over at Two-Bit who was already lounging on the couch, flipping through one of Soda's car magazines. I grabbed my bag and nodded at Two-Bit, he got up wordlessly and followed me out.

"What's got Muscles in a bad mood this morning?" he asked as he drove off.

"I dunno. I think the electric bill came in at the same time one of my monthly hospital bills showed up. Other than that, I haven't got a clue."

"You guys doing okay?" Two-Bit looked at me, a touch of concern on his face.

"Yeah... spring is almost here, he always gets a boost in work when the weather warms up. Before long, he'll be complaining about the long work hours again."

"That's true. Hey, you got practice again today?"

I looked at the red oval as he pulled up close to the school, suddenly happier.

"Nope. But I'm gonna be with some of the other guys on the team practicing after school. Shouldn't be but an extra thirty minutes or so. Why?"

"Shucks kid, can't make it. I gotta be somewhere right after school, but Steve said he'd give you a lift home. Just don't forget to remind him at lunch today. Sound okay?"

"What's going on, Two-Bit? You got you a girl or something you're seeing on the side?"

"Why, Ponyboy Curtis... to hear you talk! Naw, kid. Just having to make sure my sis gets home from the junior high school, now that she's _of age_... mom's getting gray haired about her. Sort of like Darry is with you!" He looked at me and grinned.

"Don't get any idea's about hooking me up with her, either." I said dryly as he parked and we got out.

"You've made that abundantly clear, kid. I know you don't care for her. No worries... I won't play matchmaker between you two," he laughed while I shook my head.

"See ya at lunch, Two-Bit." I headed off to my classes down one hall while he headed upstairs to his.

XXX

I met up with Steve and Two-Bit after the lunch bell sounded, and as usual, we headed over to the small grocery store for lunch. Several other greasers were there, and for a while we all went to see who was doing what with whom. Then I grabbed some fruit, leaving the candy alone while track season was here. The guys were still making the rounds with our other low- life members of society, smoking and trash talking, so I hung out by the pin ball machines until it was time to go. I heard the familiar honk of Steve's car, and headed back outside.

"What time are you finishing up with practice today, Pone? I got to get to work by four so Soda can get off on time." Steve asked as I came back to the car. Two-Bit must have reminded him that I needed a ride, which was good because I had forgotten

"I hope to be done by then, but I don't know. I'm running at least two miles this afternoon, might stretch it to three miles if I catch my second wind. All depends."

"Well, I can't hang around all afternoon waiting. If you get done and don't see me and still need a ride, call the station. Don't go walking alone if it don't feel right."

"And if you can't get Steve, call me at the house. I should be home. Got it?" Two-Bit was getting in on the other side.

I hopped in the backseat. "Yeah, I got it."

XXX

I sat around waiting for Adam and Ben, but after an extra ten minutes of stretching and prancing about, I came to the conclusion they were a no-show. That disappointed me, I knew they also needed more practice, and their schedules weren't any harder than mine. But... sitting out here griping about my teammate's laziness wasn't going to do me any good, so I set my stopwatch and headed out. First I took two laps around the track, then headed off onto the trail.

By not having competition, I had no way to gauge my time except by my stopwatch, which really wasn't a good indicator in my book. Still, I hit a rhythm and kept at it, concentrating on my breathing to the pounding of my shoes on the dirt path. Even the swing of my arms was in sync. I stupidly thought I had become some sort of human metronome. I cleared the path and headed off to the 'street' part of the run, hearing my shoes now slapping the cement. Cars were few and far between, and I was too busy working on improving my time my to even think about anything else.

Then, instinct suddenly kicked in. I heard the sound of a car _accelerating _behind me. This was supposed to be a slow speed zone for drivers... but the unmistakable sound of one speeding_ up_ ripped through my ears like a siren.

I turned my head in time to see a flash of blue barreling down on me, that idiotic driver had to be either blind or high to not see me! Not only that, he was in the wrong lane too! He was on me in a flash. The front bumper ripped through the bottom of my running pants and cut my leg up some as I tried but failed to get out of the way in time. To avoid falling in the road and under his rear wheels, I dove onto the concrete curb, landing on my arm and jarring my shoulder, the stopwatch flying out of my hand as I rolled twice to a stop. He had come so close to me that his bumper scraped the curb as he peeled out just after I went down.

"Hey, you ass-hole, come back here!" I screamed as I stopped rolling and sprang back to my feet. If he wasn't blind or high, then he had to be drunk; I knew of no other explanation! The Mustang headed around a corner, and I glanced at the plates before he disappeared. KR 9227, KR 9227. The letters and numbers kept repeating themselves in my head. I looked down at my leg, at the torn gym pants and the blood that had begun to seep through. I lifted the material with an aching arm and saw the damage, what most closely could be described as a bad case of road rash; and was grateful it wasn't anything more. I was lucky, very lucky! If I hadn't jumped in time...

I remembered the bottle and the note... and all of a sudden I wasn't feeling too good, and sat back down on the curb. Right then and there it dawned on me that all these events were connected. This was not random, and that driver had not been drunk. My blade... which I had insisted on finding and bringing, lay unused and useless in my gym bag on the bleachers with the rest of my stuff. I wasn't even carrying something to protect myself with, not that it would have been useful against a car.

A car screeched to a stop next to me. I looked up and saw Steve, who jumped out of his car and kneeled down next to me.

"Ah shit, kid. What happened? Ponyboy?"

"Hit by a car... KR 9227," was what I got out before the sunlight went real bright.

XXX

Hell, fire and brimstone! I came to see if the kid was done with his romp around the school and found him sitting on the curb, pale as a ghost, holding his left arm with his right hand and sweating buckets. Okay.. he had been running - that would at least explain the sweat. Then what he said finally sank in.

"You were _hit_ by a _car?_ Ponyboy? How bad are you hurt?"

His eyes got glassy and I pushed his head down, trying to keep him from passing out. While I held him down, I gave him a quick look from top to bottom, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He wasn't screaming in pain either. If he had _really_ been hit, he was the luckiest victim around. A few breaths later, he pushed back against me, trying to sit up. He looked down the empty street and repeated 'KR 9227' at me again.

"Hey, look, you need me to take you to a doc or something? What's that 'kr' thing, Ponyboy?" He wasn't making any sense - just like last fall, when his head got kicked in the rumble. Darry would kill any one of us if Pony's head got hurt again. He was still paying the hospital bills for that.

"That's the plates of the bastard who hit me. And no, I'm fine. I don't need no doc. Where's my watch..."

He looked on the ground and found his stopwatch and turned it off. He stood up, working his left shoulder some more while still looking down the empty street.

"Did you see him, Steve? A Blue Mustang?"

The kid looked as serious as ever, but I had to confess I didn't see him. My thoughts had been on getting to work on time, which, glancing at my watch, I knew wasn't going to happen. "You sure it wasn't just a freak accident... like he just didn't see you or something?"

"No. That car's tailed me before." The look and tone of his voice were confident. This wasn't an accident. He looked at his leg, and that's when I saw the blood running down into his sock.

"Lordy, kid, you really_ are _hurt." Before I could check it out, he turned and headed down the slope to the school. The only thing I could really see was the slight limp he had in his stride. From this distance, I couldn't tell how badly he was hurt, but he looked like he was taking it okay. He really is a tough kid, a grease - maybe. A hood - never. It just wasn't in him.

"Hey! Where are you going?" I called out to him.

"To get my books from the bleachers."

He sounded angry, and he certainly had every right to be. "Fine, I'll meet you in the parking lot." I called to him. He waved his hand behind him and I got back into my car. I thought back about that inquisition Darry had given me, about a bottle with a note in it left on their porch. "_Sure, I saw Pony drop the bottle, but I didn't go back to get it. I don't know how it ended up on your porch," _I told him that next day. Then he showed me the note. It gave me chills. I just didn't realize how real the threat was until now.

XXX

"Look, my brother knows what he saw, remembered the plates, has a gash on his leg from that car nearly running him over... and remembers a car matching that same description tailing him a few days ago. Can't you at least check it out? Find out who's after him and why?"

Soda was _not _handling the officer well. The cop looked bored - no, _annoyed_ - with him. Him, me and everything else he had seen since he first stepped foot in our house. Steve had called Soda at the DX after he took me home and bluntly told him I'd been hit by a car. The sudden screaming on the other end was audible even to me as I reached for the first aid kit for my leg and some ice for my arm. I put the stuff down and took the phone from him.

"What the hell do you mean he was hit by a car? Is he alright? What hospital..."

"...Soda.... SODA! I'm fine! Calm down. It's nothing major, I got grazed, I don't need the hospital, my leg's just scraped up, not amputated. Okay? Stop panicking."

"You get the plates?" he finally got out. I could still hear his harsh panting over the phone.

"Yeah, I got them. Blue Mustang, the same one that followed me before."

"You stay at the house, Ponyboy. STAY THERE. I'm calling Darry and the fuzz."

"Soda, don't go...."

"...Pony, don't argue. This ain't up for discussion. I'll be home in a few minutes. Let me talk to Steve."

I held out the phone to Steve, who hadn't moved since I took the phone from him. A few "yup's," "uh huh's" and an "okay, Soda, I _got_ it" later, he hung up.

"Park it on the couch Pony. Soda's orders, you ain't to move until he gets here. Knowing him, that should be any second now."

It actually took about twelve minutes, enough time for me to ignore Steve and grab the fastest shower in Oklahoma. Once I got out, I doused my leg with peroxide... the smell of the liquid bringing back memories I wasn't eager to remember; then poured alcohol over it, burning my leg until it felt like fire. Finally I slapped some large square bandages on it and taped it. If nothing else, we knew how to handle simple first aid stuff. Darry, after all, couldn't afford to haul me to the doctor every time I got scraped or cut up real bad.

Soda came pulling up to the house then, driving Sam's canary yellow Pinto, and barely got it parked in front of our house. We were running out of curb space. Sam is one of the other mechanics at the DX, a goof ball of a guy, but also handy with cars. I vaguely wondered if Sam even knew his car was missing yet. Soda came running up our sidewalk, taking the porch stairs two at a time.

"How bad are ya hurt?" he asked as he kneeled down by me on the couch. He was giving me the once over, then looked harder at my leg.

"Like I told you on the phone, I'm fine."

The cop pulled up then, and as Steve allowed the officer inside, Soda started in. The cop tried to keep up with what Soda was going on about, but, well, he was just going in circles with it. He even confused me! The cop closed his notepad just as Darry showed up and came inside. This whole thing was becoming a circus, judging by the amount of vehicles in front of our house.

"You okay, Ponyboy?" he asked me first as he took the whole scene in.

I nodded.

"Officer, I'm Darrel Curtis, Ponyboy's guardian."

"I understand your brother was … quote...'hit by a car while running in the road'?"

Darry looked at me. "Did you explain what happened?"

"Not exactly, " I jutted my chin in Soda's direction, who thankfully wasn't looking, and Darry gave a slight understanding nod. So I told Darry about the Mustang, how I saw it yesterday and again today before it grazed me, rattled off the plates and said how it disappeared around the corner. Then I sat back and looked at the officer again. He still had a 'look', but now it had changed back to boredom. Some things never change. Why Soda bothered to call the fuzz was still a mystery, they never take us seriously.

"One more thing, officer." The cop had closed his notebook again when Darry reached behind the couch and pulled out the bottle. "This was left on my porch two weeks ago, when all this started. No one saw who left it, but that note tells me they intend to hurt my brother."

The cop looked at the bottle, read the note and handed it back to Darry. He opened his notepad again and wrote something down about it.

"Mr. Curtis, I'll see what I get from the plates, but honestly, without any other witnesses to corroborate your brother's story, there isn't much else I can do. As for that bottle, it's suspicious, yes, but anyone could have left it. A youth running in the road that gets grazed by a passing car really isn't a lot to go on. My best advice, run on the sidewalks, not the streets. Anything else?"

"When can I come by the station to get a copy of your report on this?" Darry asked.

"I'll have it ready tomorrow. Ask for me, Officer Mitchell, when you come down. Thank you, Mr. Curtis." he shook Darry's hand and nodded at me and over at Soda, who was standing in the kitchen doorway by Steve, then returned to his patrol car.

"Sodapop, you got a few more hours left before your shift is done. Get going."

"Actually, Darry..." Soda started but Steve interrupted him, clapped him on the back.

"Come on, buddy, I'll go with you. See if I still have a job, and if Sam hasn't locked himself out of the office yet."

Soda gave me another concerned look, but I gave a one sided grin at him as he and Steve headed out the door.

Darry sat down next to me, first adjusting the ice pack on my shoulder, then taking the bandage off my leg.

"Ouch, Darry!" he was pulling on the tape, tearing the hair off my leg.

"Sorry, Pone. Did you wash it really good?"

"Yeah, poured peroxide on it then alcohol too."

It was seeping clear fluid instead of blood now. Darry put a fresh bandage on it and wrapped it up in an ace wrap.

"Anything else happen that you perhaps _didn't_ tell the cop?"

"No. I don't know why Soda called him. He ain't good with the fuzz anyway. And everyone knows cops don't listen to us in the first place."

"I'd have done the same thing, Ponyboy. And why were you running alone? I thought you said some of your teammates were going to be there?"

"They never showed up. Darry, if I don't get my practice in, then there weren't no point in going out for the team in the first place. I ain't gonna half-ass the running, and I don't want to live afraid, either."

"Stop cursing. I know you don't. But I _do_ want you to live. Some nut job out there has his sights on you for some reason. Stay close to the house from now on, at least until we know the who's, what's and why's of this. Either Soda or I will somehow manage to take you to the track to get your practice in. Okay?"

I lay back on the couch, feeling the prickles of soreness now that all my adrenaline had worn off. "Sure. Um, Darry?"

He looked back at me as he headed in to his room with his tool belt. "Yeah, little buddy?"

"Would you get me a couple of aspirin?"

"You starting to hurt?"

I didn't intend to, but I winced. "Uh huh."

He gave me another glance. "Yeah, hold on." He came back down the hall after changing into his regular clothes and handed me some pills, which I swallowed and closed my eyes. Feeling numbness start to overtake me, I kept my eyes shut and began to drift off to sleep. Just before I was out, I felt a blanket cover me and a hand on my head. I was too tired to even open my eyes.

XXX

"Lordy, Darry, what did you give him?" Two-Bits voice drifted along the edge of my consciousness, but I was too sleepy to fight to wake up.

"One of my muscle relaxers along with his aspirin. It sure doesn't have that effect on me, though, and I usually take two."

"Well, the kid _is_ half your size."

"Geez Steve, tell us something we don't know." Soda's light voice nearby gave me comfort.

"Two-Bit's sister has the hots for Ponyboy."

"He _said_ something we _don't _know, grease ball. As a matter of fact, half the girls at school under fifteen have the hots for him. Take the grease out of your ears." Two-Bit joked back.

"Seriously?" Soda and Darry squeaked that out at the same time. A small ripple of laughter filled the room.

I wanted to protest even the mere _use_ of my name with Two-Bits sister in the same sentence, but didn't fight the pull of sleep. I also thought it funny that any girl thought me attractive. I'd argue those points later, if I could remember.

The general sounds of a scuffle started, but Darry's hissing voice ended it. "Hey, no fighting, not now. I don't want him waking up."

"Why'd you knock him out, anyway?" Soda's concern was touching.

"I didn't mean to knock him out, just kill some of that full body soreness I knew he'd have. He was already wanting pain pills, I knew he'd only be hurting worse and I didn't want to fight him about how much aspirin he could take. But like I said, they don't do that to me, they're only supposed to take the edge off, not knock him on his ass."

The sound of brakes outside were a new sound. Soon, the front door opened and a familiar voice drifted over me.

"Hey, someone call a pow-wow?"

"Come on in, Tim." Darry called him over. I merely fought a little harder to listen, but the effort was doing in me. I'd have to look at what pills I took a little closer from now on.

"Whoa. Kid okay? I heard about his encounter with a car today."

"Yeah, news spreads fast in the underground. He's fine, just sore as heck. Just ignore him. I'll get him to … later. Tim, we … talk. This ... out of … control."

Try as I might, I couldn't keep up with the conversation.

"Someone's ... Pony..." "Mustang..." "followed...."

That was it. I was too tired. I yawned, noticing they got quiet again as I curled up tighter and gave up, letting the waves of sleep pull me under again.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	6. Winners And Losers

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A WHOLE LOT OF VIOLENCE. NOT FOR FAINT OF HEART. CURSING ABUNDANT. INFERRENCES TO RAPE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. _Enjoy_!**

**A Shot For Revenge**

Chapter 6

**Winners and Losers**

XXX

The four of us nearly ran up the parking lot to the hospital ER entrance, only to be held back by police. They weren't allowing anyone who wasn't visibly bleeding to actually go right inside unless you stood in line for a pass, which was about to send me into a full blown meltdown. Steve had to bolt my arms to my sides, and I was sure anyone could see smoke coming out of my ears as furious as I was. Darry, also just as angry, was naturally handling it better.

"Coach! Hey, Coach Devers!"

Darry had spotted the track coach being escorted by a cop going in, and he looked over at us. The coach said something to the cop, who waved us in past the other cops at the barricade.

"Sorry about that, Darrel. It's all over the radio, the press have been putting it out that the Governor was shot. The Governor wasn't even there! No one knows what's going on."

I wanted to tell the coach to shut up, none of us even knew who the Governor was, let alone if he was hurt too. My mind was on one thing, getting to Ponyboy's side. But, the coach _did_ get us through the barricade, and for that I was grateful.

"Ponyboy Curtis." Darry said to the lady at the check-in desk.

"Who?" she asked back. I felt my anger getting fueled again.

"The runner that was shot. My brother. How is he?" Darry tried again.

The lady's looked changed and had one of her co-workers lead us back. The knots in my stomach began to roll as I realized she was taking us away from the main part of the emergency room, where patients either sat or lay, moaning about their own ills; to an empty room, which, if history is any indicator, is never good news.

"Darry? Darry, I don't know, man... " I looked at my shaking hands, which still had Pony's dried blood on them.

Steve saw my hands, and put one of his behind my neck, forcing me to look at him. "Soda, go wash up," he said softly.

"No," was all I could get out. Tears started to fall. I wasn't gonna wash Ponyboy off me, I just couldn't do it.

Darry grabbed me in a vice grip of an embrace. It was so tight, I couldn't breathe. Tears continued to run down my cheeks. I wasn't some tuff greaser then, I was a terrified teenager who had lost too much in the past year of my life, and finally figured out the losses weren't over for us. I knew there was only one reason we wouldn't be taken to Pony's bedside, and I wasn't sure how too accept it.

"Not a word, Sodapop. Not a word. Hold it together, no matter what. For Ponyboy, okay?"

I felt my head bob up and down on my shoulders, but I wasn't sure I could "hold it together" if it was bad. The door opened, and Darry stepped away from me. The man in the green scrubs looked at the four of us, then spoke with purpose, gentleness faintly present in his voice.

"I understand you are the family of the runner brought in by ambulance?"

"Ponyboy... his name is Ponyboy. He's our brother, how is he?" Darry asked.

"Just to make sure we have the same young man, does anyone have a picture of him? He came in with no identification. We have to be sure, first."

Right away, wallets came out and various pictures of Ponyboy were produced. Even Steve had one in his wallet... standing with me and Darry. Still, I was touched he thought enough of us to have it. The pictures satisfied the man, and he took a deep breath. I braced myself, Steve on one one side of me, Darry on the other. Two-Bit was standing by Darry. We were all supporting each other.

"He's been taken to emergency surgery in critical condition. He's lost a lot of blood and his vital signs were shaky. He hadn't regained consciousness. It doesn't look good. Once he left the emergency room, his case was turned over to Doctor Davidson, one of our surgeons. The operating rooms are on the forth floor, the nurse at the desk there will help you more. I'm sorry, boys. Are your parent's on the way?"

"Our parents are deceased, I have legal custody."

Darry's soft voice sounded strange to me, foreign almost. My ears had stopped hearing, the word _surgery _being the only thing echoing in my brain. I felt myself take a breath again. It made sense, he _would_ have to go to surgery, they had to fix him... that bullet couldn't stay in him. He wasn't....

"Forth floor? Thanks, doc. Which way to the elevators?" Two-Bit cleared his voice and asked for us. The doctor pointed us in a direction, and Darry took charge again, leading the way down towards the elevators. I swallowed my fear, forcing my tears to dry up. I just wanted to find him, let him know we were here.

XXX

_Two Months Earlier:_

"Pony, wake up, Pone. You feel up to going to school?" I shook him on the arm. Despite all the noise in the house last night, he slept right through it. I thought I saw him twitch when Tim came over, but he was softly snoring soon after. At least now I knew what to give him if I_ really_ want him asleep; that one pill had him out completely. He didn't even respond later to my picking him up and carrying him to bed. I was gonna have to stop doing that, he's gonna give me a hernia if I keep hauling him around. "Ponyboy, come on now. Can you make it to school today?" I shook him a little harder, and his eyes began darting around under his closed lids.

"What time it is?" he groaned, arching his back while stretching his arms and legs to the four corners of the mattress. At least I knew everything still moved.

"Almost seven. How's your shoulder and leg?"

He sat up and rolled his shoulder. The grimace told me the arm still hurt, but he said nothing about it. Then he pulled his legs out from under the covers and took the bandage off, inspecting the damage. It looked good, at least as far as scrapes go. An abrasion running about four inches up the side of his calf and about three inches across it, not to mention the bruise around it. I didn't think it would leave a scar that you could see once it healed.

He wiggled his toes and moved his foot and leg in every way possible. "Feels okay." He squirreled around me and hopped out of bed, grabbing his stuff for his shower and headed down the hall. I shook my head. Very little puts him down, but when he _does _go down... he's out for the count.

"I take it Pony's going to school?" Soda asked as he shoved his breakfast in his mouth. We could both hear the water running through the pipes.

"Yep. His leg looks like it will heal fine."

"He gonna be able to make it to practice today? It's Friday, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. He looks like he'll be okay with it. His shoulder's still bugging him, but he ain't complaining. Tim said he would be there when he gets out. Give me a call if there are problems. I got to go, little man; roofing job is way across town. Bye now." I headed out, hoping things would go better today.

I had a sinking feeling that whoever this piece-of-shit was that either tried to run Ponyboy down or botched an attempt to simply scare him wasn't done. What I couldn't figure out was _why._ Pony hadn't done anything to anyone, laying so low since he recovered from that mess last fall that he was practically one with the grass.

Still, I wasn't taking any more chances with just _hoping _he'd be okay with our trying to keep tabs on him. His schedule wasn't making it easy for us either, with most of us working and Two-Bit having to keep up with his sister now, too. I had to call in outside help, and for me to do that... well, I needed help. Tim, as usual, had no problem being there. I think he still feels he owes it to Dallas. Whatever the case, he's willing to lend a hand, and I'm accepting. Whatever it takes to keep Ponyboy safe.

XXX

"Good morning, madam. Is Robert Sheldon home?"

I stood on the front steps of the ranch house with the manicured lawn trying not to stare at the woman in front of me, sporting a shiner so dark she wasn't even trying to hide it.

"No, my husband is at work. What, um, what can I do for you, officer?"

"Does your husband have a blue Ford Mustang?"

"It was our son's car. My husband had the title changed after Bobby's death. Why?"

"May I see the car, ma'am?"

I didn't want to tell her exactly why I wanted to see it, unless she pressed me for more. She looked at me and nodded.

"Certainly, officer. Let me get my shoes on. Just a moment, please."

She's a quiet woman, sadness in her eyes. It intrigued me enough to make a mental note to look up the death of her son, see what that was about. She came back wearing her shoes and a house coat, and I followed her behind the carport, where under a tarp sat the car in question.

"May I see the car? I need to actually _see _the car, not just the plates and wheels."

"Oh, certainly, officer. Sorry. My husband has the key, though." She took one corner of the tarp and I took the other, and together we removed the tarp, revealing the sleek, sporty car with the powder blue paint job.

"What's this about, sir?" she finally asked the magic question.

"There was a report made concerning a car matching this description with these plates, and a youth on the East side." I made some notes on the car's condition in my notebook. The slight ding on the front bumper was the only damage I could see, which coincided with what Ponyboy had mentioned about the car hitting the curb before it took off. Other than the typical scratches a car gets once it's driven off the lot, it was in great shape.

"My God, what happened?" The tone of her voice was not one of a question. Sounded more like she expected bad news.

"Was your husband home last night?" I asked her point blank and watched her expression. I've been doing this for seven years now, and one thing has always stood out... words may lie, faces usually don't. Her face betrayed her husband, but her words were loyal.

"Yes. He never left home after he came home from work. I don't know what that Curtis boy said, but my husband was home, all night."

I looked at her, fear and sadness clouding her brown eyes.

"Thank you, ma'am. If you'll get that corner again, we can get this car covered up, and I'll be on my way."

We got it covered, and I noticed there was no way that petite woman could cover this car on her own. I got in my patrol car and headed back to the station, knowing in my heart that something was going on, and she knew more than she was telling.

I never said who the youth was, yet she said his name unprompted. She was lying, and her husband was up to something. Now I had to do the digging to find out the why's and how's of this. However, I would have to do it on my own. When it came to rich versus poor - even though it was so wrong, the rich won out. I would get my report filled out and officially move on, but this …. something told me this wasn't done. Not yet.

XXX

"Okay, guys... everyone line up for the two mile run. Ready, set.... GO!"

Our pounding feet hit the track sounding like a small herd of horses headed down the fairway. We made two laps and then took to the path, again running the trail around the building. My leg was sore... my whole body was, but I ignored it. I pushed myself and found myself in with the leaders of the pack, they were both seniors. I noticed they seemed to be having a harder time than I was, and I was secretly pleased. Even though they were my teammates... to me they were competition, and I was still out to beat them.

The road loomed ahead, and for the first time, a bit of apprehension went through me. I swallowed and dug in my heals, spurting out ahead of the other two. I was NOT going to let what happened yesterday scare me from doing what I had every right to do.

"Hell, Curtis... this is just practice!" I heard Terry say, panting as I left him behind.

"Then keep up," I called back over my shoulder.

The road ended and I headed back toward the track, the footfalls of the other guys close behind me. We all came back on the red clay and looped it again, then crossed the finish line. I breathlessly looked around me, not for runners, but for that blue Mustang. I hadn't seen it, but I wasn't sure that was comforting or not. I grabbed my small cup of water and downed it, scanning around for anything out of the ordinary.

"Fifteen minutes and thirty eight seconds for the last runner to cross the line. Great job, boys, but I can tell you're not pushing yourselves. Remember now, first meet is this coming week. Work on your times over the weekend, and I'll see you all on Monday. Dismissed."

I got my bag and headed up the hill, spotting Tim's car on the roadside. I thought I saw it when I ran past, but wasn't paying attention to it. If it had been blue instead of black, I would have had every detail memorized.

"Hey, kid. Saw you running. You got speed, that's for sure. Hop in, I'll give you a ride home."

"Thanks, Tim. Where's Two-Bit? I thought he was my ride?"

"Wellup, I'm gonna be your taxi service for a while, me or one of my boys, unless you actually see one of your boys hanging by. Seems you and blue Mustangs' ain't getting along so well. I got the big man's version of events last night... lets hear yours. And do me a favor... don't leave anything out. Details, as long as they're true, can sometimes tell more than the big picture."

So I sat back in the seat and once again went over everything that's been going on since the middle of last month. Seeing how it wasn't very much, I was done just as he pulled up to my house and I hopped out.

"Kid, sounds like you got a tail on you. You're a smart kid, so act like it. Don't go out alone. This guy is waiting on you to do that, figuring you will. Don't. See ya on Monday, kid."

I watched Tim head off, waving as he rounded the corner then went on inside.

XXX

"Come on, Steve, it ain't like we're taking girls out or nothing. He needs to get out of the house. It's been a week since that car almost took him out, and he's only been to school and that track meet since."

I heard Soda talking to Steve through my opened window as they came back up on the porch. They had gone out a while ago, I wondered what they were doing back so soon. Friday's often had them out until midnight, when Darry's blood pressure automatically went up.

"Fine, but I ain't got no extra cash, know what I mean? I'm still short on dough since _last _Friday, when I made sure he didn't become roadkill to some maniac."

"And I appreciate it. No telling if that bastard would have come back to finish him if you hadn't shown up."

"What'd Darry want that police report for anyway? Not like they're gonna prosecute any West side well-to-do for anything that happens here."

"I think to make sure the cop knew we were serious. If Darry gets a copy of the report, then the cop would actually have had to file it. Darry's seen the system 'lose' to many things where we're concerned. This way, if Darry has a copy, then somewhere, there has to be an original."

"Fine, fine. Go get the rugrat, I'll move my stuff to the trunk."

"Thanks, buddy."

The screen door opened and shut, and I heard Soda talking to Darry in the kitchen. From the conversation I had already overheard, I knew Soda was planning to take me out... to where, I didn't know, but I was looking forward to it. I had been stuck in the house for most of the week and I was itching to get out. We did have our first track meet last Wednesday, and I was still smiling at my second place ribbon hanging above my desk. I may not have beaten that other runner from Maconville, but I did beat my own time in that competition, and beat Terry too. It was good enough for now.

"Hey, Pony, get your shoes on. Lets go to the drag strip."

I smiled, and put my pencil down. That was just what I was needing. Loud engines, fast cars, and some freedom. I reached in my desk and pulled out my switch, pocketing it and the little change I had saved up. I didn't want to bug Soda for money later on when I got thirsty.

"Stay with Sodapop, Ponyboy. If you run into any problems, stay in a crowded place until you can call me. Understand?"

"Geesh, Darry, not like I ain't been out before."

"He means, 'Yes Darry, I will stay with my older, more responsible brother and his tuff best friend; doncha, Pone?" Soda teased as he pulled me outside the door.

"Kid, don't make me regret this." Steve said as Soda pushed me into the backseat, then Steve _vroomed _the engine to life.

"I won't. Thanks for letting me come along."

"Seriously, though, Ponyboy, don't wander off. Darry will kill me if you get lost and in trouble out there."

I looked at him. First he defends me, then does the same thing Darry just did! "Sure, Soda."

XXX

The weeds were few and far between, but the early March warmth was bringing new life to the patch of bare ground the woman sat on. In silence, she gazed the rectangular piece of granite a few feet in front of her, remembering the sound of his voice, his laughter and his smile when he was younger and still so full of hope. He'd loved to give her sloppy kisses when he was a child, and she regretted now admonishing him on those days when sloppy kisses came from a face covered in either jelly or chocolate; leaving her with a sticky, messy face too. At the time, she wished he'd grow up. Now she wished she could hold that time again; when he was so innocent, so happy. Alive.

Then he _had_ to grow up, and saw the world without the rose colored glasses that youth had invisibly given everyone to see from. He was around eleven when everything seemed to change. He'd come bounding in from school early that day, his daddy unexpectedly laid off from work that same morning and had been busy downing the Jack Daniels to forget about it.

He'd been angry with her because she'd gone to buy some grocery that morning instead of doing the housework. From her perspective, she liked to get the shopping done early so she could spend the rest of the day tending house and caring for the family. She never expected him to be waiting on her. When she'd made it back from the store and saw her husband's car unexpectedly in the driveway, she knew trouble lay ahead. He either wanted her... and would take her by force if she didn't just relent to it, or something else was going on. It was both.

He'd already been on a tear. The beer was all gone, drunk the night before. A half empty bottle of Jack was in his hand, and that look was in his eye.

"Woman, where have you been? This house ain't fit for anyone to live in. I work all day and this is the thanks I get?"

"Robert, if I had known you were coming...."

Too late. His fist met her cheek and down she went. He grabbed her by the wrist and half dragged her to the bedroom, forcing her to do the wifely duty he expected her to do. Unfortunately for him, or rather for her... he was too inebriated to obtain satisfaction. Angered now for that reason, he berated her while physically taking his wrath out on her. When the fight ran out of him, he dressed and returned to the kitchen. Shakily, she found her clothes and dressed herself, putting the torn blouse in the basket to sew later and reached for another from her closet. As she smoothed back her hair and went to the laundry room to wash the towels she had left that morning in a heap, the door unexpectedly opened and Bobby came bounding in, holding out a test he'd finally made a hundred on, as if it were a prize. Thank God he hadn't come home ten minutes sooner. She did her best to hide the truth from him, to protect him the only way she knew how.

"Mom... hey Mom! I did it, just like you said I could! _One hundred_! Mom?" Bobby's voice went from excitement to confused wonder as she came out of the laundry room, her smiling face now red and puffy from where the bruise was forming on her cheek.

"That's wonderful, Bobby!" she said with false cheerfulness. She _was_ happy for him, ecstatic... but her sadness overwhelmed her just then.

He turned when he heard the noise behind him, and his father stepped out of the kitchen with the then nearly empty bottle of Jack.

"Ain't you got somewhere to be, boy?"

Bobby took a step back, and slowly nodded. "Y...yes sir," then went past her to his room, the perfect grade hanging limp and forgotten in his hand.

Bobby was never the same after that, and his father only worsened. Robert ended up getting a similar job with another company with even better pay, but their lives never saw the difference. Bobby was now aware what his father did to his mother; that she really _wasn't_ just clumsy like she claimed she was all those years. How many bruises can their house's six steps cause anyway, and how many times in a day can you reasonably expect to fall down them? He began to brood more, as he did the math and realized what two plus two added up to in his father's house. At the age of thirteen, she came home to find her Bobby drunk and passed out on the bathroom floor.

He only got worse. Her influence on him waned as he became more like his father with every year that past. His grades plummeted, becoming a barely passing student. He quit every sport she convinced him to try out for, and when he was of age to take it, even failed his drivers test twice. His daddy gave him one last incentive... pass that drivers test and that fancy new Mustang he wanted would be his. He had a new bunch of friends that were all driving, and he wanted to join in; the promise of that car was all it took for him to study for it. Sure, he passed his exam, but she knew the first time she saw that car that it would kill him. She never expected it _this _way, though. She figured he'd wrap it around a pole or something. Instead, it took him to the fight that ended his life. And it was his own fault he was dead. The ways of the father were passed to the son.

She was empty inside, pointlessly moving the flowers around in the basket in front of the headstone. Numb. Just like when the police came to their house that night to say there had been a fight and she and her husband needed to go to the hospital. She had only cried when the casket was closed on her son, sealing him inside for eternity, his body dressed in that black suit she'd picked out for him.

Robert had not changed from it either. With no one home, he let his anger and frustrations out on her at will. She took his abuse.... all the abuse.... without a word or a whimper. She had learned that her sounds of protest only fueled his aggression.

And his aggression was fueled with a vengeance last week, when she mentioned the policeman that came about the car.

"And you showed it to him? You fucking bitch! Did he have a warrant?"

She wordlessly shook her head. He smacked her, first sending her into the doorjam, then she crumpled to the floor.

"Ain't you got any _sense_?" he screamed at her. "You ain't got to show the cop's _nothing_ without a warrant! That's_ my_ car, and I'll do with it as I please! Now I can't take it _anywhere_, not if the police are going to be tailing me! Stupid bitch!"

From her spot on the floor, she knew better than to look up, but she couldn't help the words that came out. A mother's instinct to protect is strong - even when the child isn't hers, and she is helpless to defend him.

"What did you do to that boy, Robert?" she whispered. "He's just a _boy_... leave him alone!"

Robert's reaction was swift... his shoe into her midsection. It left her doubled over, gasping for air. He'd only been this cruel once before, fifteen years earlier, just after she found out she was expecting again. The bleeding lasted longer than two weeks, and she was never pregnant again. Her tears _this_ time, however, never came. She felt dead inside, and dead people don't cry.

He stormed out of the house, and before too much time had passed, she heard the Mustang's engine start and the crunch of the gravel in their driveway as he left. She didn't care where he went, as long as he left her and that boy alone.

He came back later, so drunk she wasn't sure how he managed to make it back without either wrecking the car or a ticket to pay. He found her, asleep in her bed, and again forced himself on her. He was able to have his way this time despite the haze of liquor on his breath. And this time, like all the other times before, she took herself out of the room, back to the days when Bobby was a baby, and all she could think of were the happy days ahead that were sure to come.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

**WELL, I WARNED YOU IT WOULD BE ROUGH**!

And no, I DO NOT condone violence, abuse, rape or anything else that's bad. If you are a victim, seek help immediately. Do not live with it in silence, thinking the abuser will stop.

Off my soapbox. Calla


	7. Home Invasion

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 7

**Home Invasion**

Practice had been going well. My best runs were the 100 meter dash, the 200 meter dash and the 4 x 200 meter relay. Usually I was third man on the relay, but coach was always the last word on who ran what position. I was also qualified to run the mile, and coach left it up to me to decide if I wanted to go for it or not. Our first out of town meet was coming up, and I was both antsy and excited all at the same time. I was going to challenge myself- going for all four events, hoping I would have enough in reserve to make it through them.

Darry was having to work, being that most of my track meets were on Wednesday's and not Friday's like they should be, he would probably miss all of them. Some moron decided the schedule years ago, and it just sort of stuck. So while he couldn't attend, Soda had scheduled himself off two weeks ago to make it.

I had to ride with the team on the bus... some sort of school rule that even Soda couldn't break. If I wasn't on the bus, coach wouldn't let me run when I got there. So, I was trapped in the steel box on wheels with no radio to listen to as we bounced on down the highway at a painfully slow rate of speed. Soda caught a ride with Two-Bit, released finally from his responsibility for getting his sister home from school. They had gone on ahead, and Steve was having to work.

I pulled out my assignment for English; Stephen Crane's novel, _The Red Badge Of Courage,_ and made use of my time on the bus. It wasn't easy reading, having to sound out a lot of it in order to understand it, but I muddled through. After an hour on the bus, which - if I could have ridden with Soda - wouldn't have taken but just over thirty minutes, we pulled up at Newton High.

"Alright, everyone grab your gear and follow me." Coach Devers loved Newton, we consistently beat their guys. They didn't have as good an athletic program as we did, but still, they had heart, and gave it their best.

We changed in the guest locker room, which, for Newton, was the girls locker room. The pink paint covering everything and the girly things visible through the steel mesh of their lockers made me feel as uncomfortable as ever, and I was more than happy to take the field when the time came. As a manly way of saying hello, someone from our team always left a used jock strap in one of the occupied yet foolishly unlocked lockers every time we came here. It wasn't mine, I never had the guts to tell Darry I'd need to buy another, but it was always fun to see how mad Coach could get when he'd get the call from the other school the day after the meets.

The other visiting team, from nearby Moyock High School, changed in one of the classrooms next door. They were first on the field, eager, I guess, to get out of the building. They were already checking out the surroundings and warming up when we came outside.

I looked in the stands and spotted Soda and Two-Bit, top row, all the way to the left of the bleachers. It's where my group always sat, no matter what school we went to. It was easier to find them that way. I waved and they waved back.

"Alright, boys, start warming up."

Coach went through this at every meet. Most of us who were on the team last year already knew what to do, and were busy doing it. The new guys on the team simply followed our lead. Coach really didn't have to say a word.

"They got any good runners?" Jim asked me. I was surprised, I didn't think Jim even knew how to talk, considering this was the first time he'd ever spoken to me.

"Yeah. Newton's got some good runners. Not fast enough to make me sweat it, but that short one over there by the door... he's pretty good. He was doing real well last year. Can't wait to see what he's got in store this time. As far as Moyock goes, they're better on the long distance stuff. That tall towheaded dude working his hamstrings... he's my biggest threat. He's fast."

"Well, good luck, Ponyboy. I think they're calling everyone for the 100 meters."

"Thanks, Jim. See ya." I got up and took my place. Less than thirteen seconds later, I crossed the finish line first. And so the day rolled on. There were other races besides the four I was entered in, and there was a lot of downtime as coaches and referees got paperwork in order. I spent some of that downtime scoping out the various cheerleaders that accompanied the schools. Our school sent the girls in a seperate van. The official reason : not enough room. The real reason: thirty teenage guys versus ten teenage girls. I ain't stupid.

The day was long, but it was fun too. I took first place in both the 100 meter and the 200 meter heats, then it was time for the relay. Time to get my mind back on running.

"Team one: Martin; first position, Jamestown; second, Curtis; third and Fry; fourth. Team Two: Adams; first, Jones; second, Caleb; third, and Smith; fourth. Get going and good luck!"

I headed off to my place across the track and waited, finally Ricky Jamestown came tearing up the field slamming the baton in my hand and I was off like a rocket. In a blur, I handed it off to Martin Fry, who took it home. I was smiling as I joined my teammates for the first place finish. Our school finished first and second, with one of Moyock's teams taking third place. I didn't have a lot of time to celebrate, they were already calling for the one mile distance. Storm clouds were building, and I knew they wanted to get this over with before the rain came.

We lined up two of us from each school, and when the gun sounded, off we went. It was a good run, but I was already tired. Unfortunately it showed. My time was terrible. I came in second, that blond guy beating me by a half a second. Now I knew what I had to work on for next time. Still, I didn't do too badly, and was happy to have three blue ribbons to add to my collection. I glanced at the stands, Soda and Two-Bit were pumping their fists in the air, so I guessed they were happy too.

"Great job, boys. Great job. Lets head to the locker rooms and get changed, then get back on the bus."

Twenty minutes later, we rolled out of the school's parking lots, sans showers, but we were guys... smell didn't bother us. Not only that, if we _were _gonna take a shower, it would have been in the girls shower stalls. That was just too gross to think about.

"Did everyone remember _all _their gear?" Coach looked at us as the bus rolled down the street, a knowing gleam in his eye and tone in his voice.

A varied chorus of bored "Yeah, coach," "Uh-huh's," and "Yup's " were heard. Coach went back to his seat behind the driver, and we started snickering at the back of the bus. Who ever had locker 128 was gonna find a surprise hanging next to her clean white socks tomorrow!

XXX

"Pony _smoked_ him, you shoulda seen it, Darry. Flew right past him. Ain't that right, Pone!"

Soda was recapping my race for Darry, I was too busy shoving the last of my beef stew in my mouth, but nodded with a happy yet sloppy grin.

"That's great, Ponyboy. I wish I could have been there, hopefully... next time. So, four more ribbons, huh? Pretty soon you're gonna run out of room for all those awards."

"I put them in my box after a week, you know that," I sputtered, my mouth full. Darry handed me a napkin, ignoring my lack of table manners.

"Still, you're doing a great job. Have you had a chance to finish your homework yet?"

"Aww, come on, Darry... he just ran the race of the week, and you're gonna start in on him about his Chemistry assignment?" Soda looked amazed at Darry, but for me it was a typical 'Darry' question. I wasn't even put off.

"Most of it. I got the reading done on the bus, and did most of the chemistry during lunch today. At least there is something good that comes out of being stuck on that rickety bus for an hour for every away meet."

"Well, go finish. I don't want your grades to suffer."

I got up and rinsed off my plate, stacking it with Darry's by the sink. It was Soda's night for dishes, a chore he really didn't seem to mind. I headed off down the hall, when Darry's voice made me turn.

"Ponyboy," Darry was standing by the kitchen, looking at me. "I really am proud of you."

I smiled. That hit a chord with me, and I felt my ears go hot. "Thanks, Darry. I hope you can take time off at least once this season to see me. But I understand if you can't."

He nodded and disappeared from my view, and I heard the familiar creak of his chair as he must have sat down. I went on to my room, dragging out my text book to finish my homework.

XXX

"So, what did the report say?"

I flipped the corner of my paper down, looking at Soda who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of me, waiting on an answer.

"How did you know I got it?" I quietly asked him. The walls were thin, and I knew if we spoke any louder, Pony would hear us.

"_Please_, Darry. Give me a little credit. I may have dropped out of school, but I ain't totally dumb. What did the police report _say?_"

"It said everything Pony said the afternoon that cop was here."

"Dar - ry..." Soda's voice was thick with disdain. He was right, I was hiding something, but I wasn't gonna tell him.

"Soda, the cop checked out the plates, but it was a dead end. Stolen tags. Now, go do the dishes. I don't need roaches or rats in here." I went back to the sports page, and Soda got up in a huff, returning to the sink filled with suds and hot water.

I relaxed some as his backside rounded the corner into the kitchen. I hated lying to Soda, we were a team when it came to dealing with Ponyboy, but I felt the information in the police report needed to be guarded from both of them. The plates weren't stolen, and I definitely didn't need either of my brothers … or anyone else in the gang for that matter... showing up on Robert Sheldon's lawn with switchblades and baseball bats. That was my own first instinct, and I'm more level headed than the rest of them. I was halfway to soc territory when a mix of common sense and reality set in, and I turned around and came home.

I didn't know what beef that fool had with Ponyboy. The cop didn't know either. He said officially the matter was closed, unless I wanted to formally lodge a complaint. He did warn me, though, that at this point, I had no proof of anything, just Pony's word against a businessman grieving the loss of his son. We would come out the bad guys in this, and the State wouldn't take too kindly to it either. I had to back down, cool my jets. When he said _that,_ it only pissed me off more. I took the report and headed west in my truck, but thankfully I got a grip and returned to my side of the tracks.

The cops never did us any favors, why should they start now?

XXX

"Hey, Marty, how are ya?

"Thomas Mitchell! How long has it been? What brings you down here from your mighty post in Tulsa?"

I had driven the hour to Oklahoma City, unable to find answers in the backlog of papers at the station. Seems the Sheldon kid had a sealed record for some reason, and I didn't have – nor was I gonna obtain – a court order to unseal it just to satisfy my own curiosity. I had friends on the inside who could talk much easier. Marty Owens was one of them. He was a lead coroner for the State, and handled the Tulsa jurisdiction for all adolescent homicides. He was also my best friend since junior high.

"Well, I got something that's been bugging me, and I need a little inside help that won't get noticed. Know what I mean?" I looked at him, and he ducked his head, thinking about it. Finally, he called to his co-worker a few desks back.

"Henry, I'm going out to lunch early. Think you can handle the office for me?"

Henry waved him away like an annoying fly buzzing about. He grabbed his coat and together we went across the street to a busy lunch parlor. We ordered, then got down to business.

"So... what's up?" Marty asked.

"A case a few months ago, last September. Record's sealed with no real reason why. Seventeen year old kid named Robert Sheldon Jr. ended up dead. Ring any bells?"

Marty scrunched his eyebrows together thinking. "Got any other details?" he finally asked.

"I haven't got any proof, but somehow it's connected with another kid... a fourteen year old named Ponyboy Curtis."

Right away, a look of recognition hit Marty's face. He was sucking on his tea and started nodding his head as soon as I spoke the Curtis kid's name.

"Oh yeah. I remember that one. With a name like that, who could forget. What do you wanna know?"

"How did the Sheldon kid die?"

Marty wiped his mouth and poured ketchup over his fries. "Lets see, if I remember this right. Sheldon was with a few of his friends one night, all of them drunk out of their minds, when they began to assault the Curtis kid and his friend. Curtis's friend managed to escape and rescue him by knifing Sheldon in the back - puncturing his lung and nicking an artery. Sheldon bled to death, not even able to scream."

I thought that through. "That's it? That doesn't seem like enough to seal the records. Sounds like a simple case of self-defense. Why were the records sealed?"

"It _was _self defense, but that wasn't the end of it. Lordy, my wife got all into this too, pouring over every newspaper article and hounding me for every detail that the papers didn't print. Not that she _officially_ knows a thing, mind you, just like we ain't sitting here talking about it. Anyway, instead of going to the police for help, that Curtis kid and his friend took off for a while, hid out for days in some town way down south of here, a couple of hours away. Their hideout was invaded by a bunch of kiddies out on a field trip from school. Somehow, the building caught fire and collapsed. Curtis and his friend managed to save all the kids from getting hurt. Only the friend, the one that killed Sheldon in the first place, ended up dying from his injuries.

"Later, when the whole thing went to court, Curtis was exonerated from any wrong doing. He was only in court technically for a custody hearing, and was sent back to his family. I'm sure you've already done the background check on the Curtis family?"

I nodded my head, mouth full of food. Marty was right. Even though Darrel Curtis didn't tell me about any of it, I was already up to speed on their parents deaths and the whole family's struggles to stay together.

"Anyway, to everyone who's lives he touched saving those younger kids, that Curtis kid came out a hero. Ironic, the victim becomes the hero, and you and I both know that no one tarnishes a hero. Since Sheldon and Curtis are linked by a sticky spider web of events, it was just easier to seal Sheldon's records - a dead West side juvenile delinquent out looking to harass some poor kids on the East side. Seal it and forget about it."

"So since both Sheldon and that friend of Curtis were dead, it was just better to shove it all in a file, lock it up and lose the key, huh?" I wanted to make sure I had it straight.

"Yup. Pass the salt, would ya?"

I handed him the salt, and he looked at me, a question in his own eyes now.

"So what's with the curiosity?" he asked me. Now it was my turn for the other half of the story.

"That same Curtis kid's been getting harassed. Someone's been tailing him, leaving threatening messages on his doorstep, and the other week someone tried to run him down with a car. Kid's smart, he managed to get the plates, which led me straight to the home of Robert Sheldon Sr.. There's too much coincidence, first Sheldon Junior gets killed attacking Curtis, now Curtis is being stalked by Sheldon Senior. Like I said, though, I haven't got any_ proof,_ just a sinking suspicion. I got a bad feeling about that guy, and I haven't even met him. Met the wife though, she looks like she's been used as a punching bag, too."

"Let me guess... she's sticking up for her husband, no matter how beat up she is?" he asked with disdain.

"Uh huh. This Sheldon guy is gonna be a hard one to catch."

"Well," Marty said, wiping his mouth and putting some money by his plate, "I love a challenge. Me and some guys from Vice love getting our hands on wife beaters. Let me know if I can do anything for you."

"I will, thanks for the info."

"What info? I just came to have lunch with a friend. But now, I gotta get back to work. See ya."

I got a to-go cup and headed back to my car, ready for the long drive back to Tulsa.

XXX

The newspaper was carefully folded as I read the smaller headlines on the second page of section C, the Sports section, of the Tulsa Tribune. "Local Runner Takes Home Four Ribbons."

The story of Ponyboy's racing was accompanied with a small grainy picture of him running one of his events. It was only a paragraph, but it was something I read at least ten times. It reminded me of my football days, and I hoped the scouts were paying attention.

The schedule of all the schools in the district were printed, and I was going to ask the boss for this coming Wednesday off, just so I could surprise him and go root him on. Dad always managed to come to a few of my games, and even though we really needed the money, I'd learned my lesson last fall that time spent with both my brothers was also just as valuable. It meant I'd have to work on Saturday to make up for it, but Soda was off this weekend, so Pony wouldn't be alone.

I didn't like him being left alone, not with Robert Sheldon on the prowl. Of course, _they_ didn't know it was Sheldon, but_ I_ did. He knew where I lived, and I wasn't taking anything to chance.

Or so I thought.

XXX

I'd been sitting outside the house for almost thirty minutes, watching and waiting, but not seeing anyone going near it. I had watched the young men leave in an excited way half an hour ago, everyone pushing and shoving their way down the sidewalk, laughing with each other, then climbing into the car that belongs to that other hood- boy that works at the gas station. I still had last weeks paper in my passenger seat, the entire schedule for the district's track students posted inside it. This told me when I knew they'd all be out of town, watching that murdering hood run in circles at some other school. That was how I knew they would be gone.

It was broad daylight, and the chance I was taking was huge. Still, I was ready if anyone bothered me. I got out of my car and casually strolled up to the fence, entered the gate and walked up to the porch. I tried the door, expecting it to be locked - yet smiled when I found it wasn't. Acting like I lived here, I went on inside.

I stood still a moment, waiting to hear the sounds of someone as yet unseen. I pulled my pistol out of my pocket, holding it at my side - just in case I was walked in on. The room smelled old, dusty. Newspapers littered the coffee table, with two watered down drinking glasses being left idle on top of the paper, the condensation now running into the print below.

There was a piano along one wall, pictures of people in frames resting on top of it. I hated their smiles, mocking me. I turned the pictures down, not wanting to see their taunting smiles. In the kitchen, the appliances were old, the counter tops scratched and marred. Pathetic, they can't even afford a cutting board? Obviously they didn't even respect the little they owned... or stole. A pile of bills were left on the kitchen table, and I noticed the one on top was for _that kid_, the one Bob tangled with that night. Anger ran through me, and I tore the bill up, leaving it in a pile on the table.

The hallway was dark, a few other pictures on the wall, some certificates too. I found a bedroom with a haphazardly made queen sized bed in it, a desk littered with paper and a large dresser. Clothes were stacked on top of the dresser, folded in somewhat neat piles. Between the stacks of clothes were two square containers, each containing deodorant, hair grease, combs, and other items for personal use. I opened the closet to find a couple of DX uniform shirts and jeans on hangers. Blankets were folded up in a corner, and … looking around the room, books were everywhere. Novels, short stories, classics. A small library was here, cluttered in with the mess.

I kicked the mess out of my way and looked closer at the desk. On it, I saw a drawing tablet and looked inside. The talent this kid had infuriated me. He didn't_ deserve_ to have such skill, not when my son didn't even have breath in his body. I balled up the drawing laying on top, then left the room.

Across the hall was another room, a twin sized bed in it, with everything imaginable shoved on top of it. Boxes of clothes, cartons of magazines, and broken knickknacks lay everywhere. I highly doubted anyone slept in here. An inch of settled dust covered everything.

Down the hall, I found a third bedroom containing another queen sized bed, this one made neater than the previous one. The dresser had an assortment of crap on it - comb, deodorant, small notepad, pens. There were a few pictures of boys in frames, one frame with a cracked glass. In a chair in the corner lay a tool belt, waiting for the owner to come make use of them. I looked at the tools, they were good quality, could take a beating, but had been used a long time and some needed replacing. The hammer had a broken claw. I didn't feel pity, I had a dead son. And it was partly this family's fault.

I wasn't done, but a car door suddenly closing outside got my attention, and I heard voices coming up the walk. I gripped my pistol tighter, but saw a back door by the laundry room, and decided to leave instead. As these people came in, I left; satisfied with my investigation. I made my way around the house and casually slipped back out of the gate, strolled up the street to where I left my car and just as calmly, drove away.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

Reviewers... hello? Anyone there? Hint, Hint! Thanks!


	8. Violation

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 8

**Violation**

XXX

Tim and Curly, and a few other of his guys were sitting on our front steps when we pulled up. Pony hopped out of the truck and grabbed his gym bag, then started his way inside, but something told me to hold him back.

"Hold on, champ." I grabbed him by the upper arm. He looked at me, confused. I knew he had to go, not only had he loaded down on water after the awards ceremonies, but also downed a huge Pepsi that Soda bought him on our way home to congratulate him on yet two more blue ribbons. However, that look on Tim's face combined with his stance right in front of my door said otherwise.

"Darry!" Pony hissed, wriggling around and I knew it was a now or never situation for him.

"Tim, what's going on?" I called, my hand still firmly on Ponyboy.

"I think you had company while you were out. Thought I'd wait until you came around to decide."

I let go of Ponyboy, who tore around to the back of the house and I went on inside. Soda was on my heals with Steve, Two-Bit and Tim bringing in the rear.

"Darry, the piano..." Soda quietly said right away, jutting his chin out to point. Our parents pictures, never touched except to dust off every once in a while, lay face down. Anyone who came to our house knew what those pictures meant to us, and no one dared mess with them.

"Soda, find Ponyboy," I commanded in an equally quiet voice.

"I'll get him," Two-Bit volunteered from somewhere behind me, and the screen door opened and closed behind us.

"See anything missing, Soda?" I asked.

"Not off hand, but I got a weird feeling about this. Better start looking around." He headed off to the kitchen and I started down the hall. I noticed the open back door when I heard Two-Bit laughing in the front yard.

"Lordy, kid, maybe you aught not drink so much after running... then you wouldn't have to piss like a race horse later!"

"Hey, I get thirsty running...... umm, what's going on?" They had been pushing each other in play as they came inside, but Two-Bit saw my face and stopped cold. Pony had obviously been so concerned with his bladder, he hadn't paid attention.

"Someone's been in the house." Soda answered, his eyes looking at me then a slight jerk of his head told me to follow him.

"You're kidding?" Pony dropped his bag in the living room and went to his room.

Two-Bit followed him. "Hold on, kid."

I went to see what Soda found.

"I know better to think you would just tear up a bill." Soda said with quiet seriousness as he looked at the pile of torn up scraps of paper sitting on the table.

"Take Ponyboy and go to Two-Bit's."

"Darry, let me..." Soda started but I interrupted.

"Don't argue. I need _him _out of here, and I need _you_ to watch him." I looked in his eyes, and he nodded.

"Ponyboy, come on. Two-Bit, Steve, let's go. We're crashing the Mathews house."

Ponyboy came down the hall, a look of anger on his face.

"What's wrong, Pone?" I asked him, one hand on his shoulder.

"Bastard's been in my room, Darry. My desk ain't how I left it."

"Don't cuss. Go with Sodapop, I'll let you know when to come back home."

His green eyes pierced my soul, a look of protest on his face. Then he nodded and followed the rest of the gang out the door. Once they were out of the gate, I reached for the phone and called the police.

"Officer Mitchell, please," I said when the desk clerk answered. I was put on hold for a while, then the phone picked up.

"Officer Mitchell, how can I help you?"

"This is Darrel Curtis. Sheldon's been in my house. Got any other 'constructive advice' for us?" I was trying my best not to cuss the cop out, but damn-it... now he's come _inside_ my home.

"Darrel, I'll be right over. Is everyone okay?"

Wow, genuine concern. Imagine that. "No one was home, everyone's fine. I sent them to a friends for now."

"Good. Don't touch anything. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Officer Mitchell hung up, and I looked at Tim and motioned him outside.

"You know who this Sheldon guy is?" Tim asked.

"In a round about way."

Tim looked at me, nothing registering on his face.

"Remember the kid Johnny killed last year?"

Tim nodded, pulling out a smoke.

"Yeah, well, seems that kid's father has issues. What his beef is with us, I don't know. I thought this was over and done with."

"Cops on the way over?"

I nodded.

"Then it's time for us to split. Curly's been in enough trouble lately, I don't think he needs to be seen by the fuzz right now. Want me to do anything?"

I knew what he meant. "No. Right now, as long as you can still pick Ponyboy up from school, I think we're safe enough. I'll call you tonight if there are any changes. Thanks, Tim."

He nodded and looked at his guys, who wordlessly hopped off my porch railing and followed him to their cars.

A short while later, a car pulled up and Officer Mitchell got out.

"Darrel, what happened?

I told him about going to watch Pony's meet, then finding the house like we did. I left out Tim and company being here, knowing Tim's own record wasn't the cleanest it could be. Then Officer Mitchell closed his book and started looking around.

"To be honest, Darrel, it's hard to see any damage done. Nothing looks broken, just the torn up bill and the balled up drawing pad on that desk in the boy's bedroom. However, that's not enough to get a warrant. My own wife tears up bills by accident, and what fourteen year old hasn't balled up a paper or drawing when it doesn't come out the masterpiece they imagined it is in their head. You also say the front door was left unlocked?"

"Ponyboy, come back here!" Soda's distant and rarely used voice of authority was being ignored as my youngest brother came bounding inside the house, stopping the cop's question just in time. We both turned to look at him, with Soda running up a block behind him

"I told you to stay at Two-Bit's," I glowered at him.

"He was in our _house_, Darry! I wanna know what's going on!" Pony could be really stubborn when he sets his head to it.

Soda leaped up the steps and came in, breathless and red faced. His anger with Ponyboy was rare, but right now, it was genuine.

"I told you to stay with me at Two-Bit's. You had no business running off like that," Soda sputtered out.

"Then tell the junior Miss Mathews to leave me alone! Besides, I want to know what's going on _here_."

"Sodapop, Ponyboy... enough. Sit down, both of you." I barked at them. They looked at me, then at the same time, turned and plopped onto the couch. It was almost comical to see them both red faced and fuming. I turned back to the cop, hoping this conversation was almost over. Officer Mitchell wasn't really being helpful, and I didn't want Sheldon's name out in the open. It was bad enough Tim heard it.

"Yes. I leave my door unlocked in case any of our friends needs to come in and cool down. No one around here has a wonderful home life, and as long as they have a safe place they can come to diffuse and vent, then no one gets hauled in."

"Well, Mr. Curtis, I don't really know what to tell you. Unlocked doors allow anyone to come in, and sometimes the people that enter aren't always your friends. It's your choice if you lock the door, but again; you have no witnesses as to who came in, you say nothing appears missing – just that the bill on the table is torn up. I'll write a report on it if you wish, but I don't have enough to go on to even think about questioning suspects." He closed his notebook and looked at me with an - _I'm sorry, but you're out of luck_ - look. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"I'd like a copy of your report." I said, noticing Soda go limp and lay back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. I knew that look too. "Other than that, I guess not."

"Come by on Monday, I'll have it ready for you. Any other problems, give me a call." He held out his hand and I shook it, less enthusiastically as I had when he came in. I watched the cop leave, noticing the guys hanging on the corner, smoking and watching the house. Then I turned and sat on the coffee table, in front Pony and Soda.

"Ponyboy, I sent you to stay at Two-Bit's. Why didn't you stay?"

Soda looked over at him, anger replaced by something just shy of amusement.

"I did go, just didn't feel like staying. Darry, what did the cop say?"

'First things first. What happened that you didn't stay?"

"Nothing." Pony said with a bite of venom in his tone.

"His sister," Soda said under his breath.

I closed my eyes and counted to five. I should have known Two-Bit's sister would be involved.

"Pony, it's _her_ house, she lives there; all you had to do was sit on the couch and ignore her if you didn't want to talk to her."

His eyes lit up like I said something wrong.

"I _did _sit on the couch, and I _was _ignoring her...." his voice trailed off, just as the guys came in. I ignored them, waiting for him to finish, but he clammed up good.

"So, if you were on the couch and not bothering her, what happened?"

He spoke not a word, but his ears got mighty red.

"Ponyboy? What... happened?"

"She came over and sat next to him." Soda said, trying and failing to hide a smile.

Glancing at Steve and Two-Bit, they were equally trying to hold back.

"No she _didn't_. She was aiming for my lap! There's a big difference. Five feet of couch to sit on, and she chooses the same part I was on? If I hadn't jumped up and ran out..... " He was flustered then, turning even redder than before. "Darry, I ain't got to take this. I told you that girl's got issues." He jumped up and headed to his room, and the guys finally let out the laughter they had been holding in. Even I had to smile, wishing I could have been there to see it.

"I swear, Darry, it was funny as hell. She sat down and he jumped up all in the same motion. Before I knew it, he was a blur out the door!" Two-Bit was leaning over, holding his side in laughter.

"I tried to catch him, but... dang he's fast. Did you find out anything from the cop?" Soda's question brought me back to reality.

I got up, ran my hand over my face and looked around. I hated this. I knew that S.O.B. had been in my house, but I had no proof. The only thing I could do was the one thing I hadn't done since becoming head of this nutty household.

"Steve, Two-Bit. I hate to do this, but until the creep messing with us is caught, I've got to start locking the doors at night and when we ain't home. I'll leave a key under the overhang. It's the best I can do for now."

"No problem," Steve said, while Two-Bit just nodded his head.

The silence was uncomfortable.

"Soda, you mind cleaning up in here? A real good job - as if the state inspector were coming? I got to go talk to Ponyboy, apparently about a lot of stuff."

"Sure, Dar. I'll put dinner on, too. You guys staying?" Soda looked at the guys, leaning against the door.

Steve shook his head while Two-Bit spoke up.

"No, thanks though. I got to go check on the sis. Make sure her heart ain't torn in two by the man of her dreams. See y'all later."

"Tell her the 'man of her dreams' ain't ready for such an intense relationship. Sitting on the same piece of furniture is still too much of a commitment." Steve quipped, causing everyone - me included - to laugh. I hoped Pony hadn't heard.

XXX

"Ponyboy? Can I come in?"

I stuck my head in the door when he didn't answer. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking around, arms crossed against his chest, his face devoid of any expression.

"You okay?" I closed the door behind me, hoping he'd let me talk with him about whatever was bugging him.

"He was in my _room_, Darry. He was _here._... in _my_ space. Looking at my stuff,_ touching_ my things."

And here I thought he'd be upset about girls. Guess that talk could wait until later.

"Is anything missing?" I gently asked, sidling up next to him and putting my hand on his shoulder.

"I dunno. I don't even want to go to my desk. Everything just feels... dirty."

I understood how he felt. Our home, our personal and private spaces had been violated by someone unwelcome. It wasn't like one of the gang had been in here, snooping around; it was someone else, someone we didn't know. Someone... evil. Still, we had to go on.

"Want me to help you clean up?" I asked as I stepped to their bed and started stripping the blanket and sheets from it.

He shook his head, watching- but not moving from his spot.

"Do me a favor, go get my sheets from my bed too, we'll wash them all up together. Okay, little buddy?"

He nodded then turned and opened the door, heading down to my room. I gathered up their linens and carried them to the laundry room, noticing the back door by the machines. With a sigh, I reached over and bolted the lock. Pony carried my sheets in and I sorted them, tossing them into the machine with ample soap. No matter how much soap I used, or the amount of cleaning the three of us did that night, the feeling of being violated persisted.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	9. Hidden Concerns

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 9

**Hidden Concerns**

XXX

The ride up the elevator seemed longer than it should have been. Soda was doing his best to keep it together, at least he had stopped crying. Somehow, I'd have to get him to wash his hands. Every time he looked at Pony's dried blood, it made my stomach coil as my mind kept replaying over and over the memory of him sprawling on the red clay and not moving, and made Soda blink hard – I'm sure to keep the tears at bay. He also had some blood on his shirt that I don't think he'd noticed yet, but there was nothing I could do about it. I only had on my t-shirt now, my button up shirt now a torn bloody mess left in the back of the truck. A little bit of Ponyboy was everywhere.

The guys followed me to the desk situated just down the hall to the left of the elevators. There was a woman in green scrubs sitting there, and a few other women and a man, each of them wearing either green or blue scrubs, in a glassed room behind her; everyone busy writing stuff. In a corner of the waiting room, another man in a white coat was talking to another group of people. As we neared the desk, I watched as one of those people shook the hand of the man in the white coat, and they all disappeared down another hallway. It was just the four of us now, alone with the medical staff.

"How can I help you sir?" the woman asked, looking up at me from her chart.

"I was told my brother was sent here from the ER for emergency surgery. Ponyboy Curtis? How is he?"

"Ah, yes... Dr. Stafford in the ER just called to say you were coming up. Here are some forms..."

"Lady, I don't mean to be rude, but forget the forms - how is he?" Steve interrupted.

She looked at him, then back at me, and stiffened her shoulders, not scared a bit by Steve's glare. "I don't have any information, just that he's in surgery and could be in there for a few more hours, depending on what Dr. Davidson has to do." Her attention returned to me, and she continued with the forms on the clipboard. "If you could fill these out, and return..."

A blue light and an angry buzzing noise suddenly sounded, and right away two of the women and the man in the glass room jumped up and bolted for the door, heading down a hallway under a sign that said STOP - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL IN O.R. ATTIRE ONLY.

"Oh no!" the woman with the clipboard said, barely audible, but we all heard her. My stomach tightened, I think I knew what that blue light meant, but I didn't want to believe it.

"Lady? What's going on?" Soda asked, voice shaking. Steve, who was behind him, stepped closer to him, putting his hands on Soda's shoulders.

"Well? Hey lady, my friend asked you a question. What's all that noise mean?" Two-Bit demanded, looking every bit the mean man he could be when royally pissed off, or worried out of his skin.

Her look at me said it all. In that instant, I knew he was gone. I turned and grabbed Soda, letting out an involuntary sob in the process. This started a domino effect, with Soda letting his own repeated shrieks of "NOOOO!" out too. His fists pounded my back, but I only held onto him tighter. Soda's knees buckled and he collapsed right there on the floor, bringing me down with him and Steve too; his own arms gripping Soda from behind. I felt Two-Bit's arm across my shoulder, squeezing my skin. I held Soda, his sobs and cries of "Ponyboy, no!" relentlessly flowing out. I couldn't believe we had just lost Ponyboy, dead at the age of fourteen.

XXX

_Two Months Earlier:_

It was nearly midnight before we were done cleaning and tried to settle in to bed. Ponyboy had gone to take a shower, his newest ribbons of victory seemingly forgotten amid the dirty feelings he told me he felt. And I knew it wasn't just the dried sweat on his skin from his earlier competitions that he was talking about. I tried to pretend knowing someone had been in our house prowling about and going through our things didn't bother me too much, but it did. However, I had to be strong for Ponyboy, just as Darry was strong for both of us.

I was putting fresh sheets and blankets down on the bed, Darry busy doing the same in his room, when I heard a knock on the door. At first I was confused, then I remembered... Darry had locked it. I made my way to the living room and opened the door, finding Steve and Two-Bit both standing under the dim circle of light being emitted from our porch's one pathetic bulb.

"Hey, got room for us?" Two-Bit asked with a grin.

"Always. Come on in. Steve, you're dad being an ass again?" I stepped back as they came in, then shut and locked the door again.

"Not tonight. I think he's saving it for the weekend. We just wanted to show up, give a little muscle if it was needed. The prick came once, if he shows again, we'll let him know who is and who isn't welcome under this roof."

I smiled, grateful. They were better than any dog for protection. I got them blankets while Darry brought out the last of the pillows in the house. Steve took the couch while Two-Bit stretched himself out on the recliner. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Pony's tired frame leaning against the darkened hallway wall, arms crossed as he silently watched the scene.

Two-Bit noticed him too, then cocked his eyebrow. "Go on, kid. Get some sleep. My sis ain't here to bug you, but what you dream is up to you!"

Pony's eyes rolled as he shook his head, then he turned and slowly faded into the shadows back to our room.

"Thanks, guys. Night." I said softly as Steve reached over and clipped off the lamp. Darry was in his room, the light still on and the door opened... unusual for him. He's kept his bedroom door shut while he slept since he was thirteen. Ours was usually pulled - but rarely closed. Tonight, everything was reversed.

"Shut the door, will ya, Soda?" his tired voice drifted across the room. I did as asked then crawled in next to him. I was surprised to find him shaking slightly.. as if he were shivering.

"You cold, Pony?" I put my arm across him, and - as he had done so many times before, snuggled his back into my chest.

"Guess so," he mumbled. I knew better.

"Ponyboy, you know Darry and I ain't gonna let anyone bother you here. Even Steve and Two-Bit are here. You're as safe as you can be."

"Uh huh," was all he said.

I trailed my hand down his arm to his hand, which I was surprised to find balled into a fist, a fist holding something cold and metallic.

"Pony, what have you got?" I asked, leaning up on one arm to peer over his shoulder, aided by the little moonlight that made it's way into the room.

"Nothing, just my switch," he mumbled back.

I eased it out of his hand... he was unwilling to let it go at first, but I persisted and he finally let it fall away.

"I don't think you'll need this in your sleep. That's all I need - that blade to pop out and accidentally slice you to ribbons. Go to sleep."

I think he was already asleep before I finished speaking, and I reached over him, placing the switch on his night stand. My eyes went round the room, seeing our stuff in the darkness, wondering who the intruder was and why he was so interested in us. I shuddered, putting my arm protectively over Ponyboy and finally shut my eyes. It was nearly one in the morning.

I woke next to a whimpering and slightly shaking Ponyboy. He had somehow managed to turn in his sleep and face me. I recognized what was going on - another nightmare. I should have expected it, knowing how messed up things were getting around here. Looking at the clock, it was barely past two. I was gonna be no good at work in the morning.

"Ponyboy?" I cooed. I brushed his hair off his sweaty forehead, and patted his cheek with a force a tad less then gentle, but even I was taxed to my limits. I quickly realized, it was the wrong thing to do.

A scream came from him, and I clamped my hand over his mouth trying to silence him. I moved it away half a second later when I felt his jaw muscle constrict as he involuntarily tried to bite me, forgetting, it seemed, where he was and who he was with.

"Ponyboy!" I called sharply, sitting up. Lights went on everywhere, and Darry and both the guys were suddenly standing in my doorway.

"What's going on? Sodapop? Ponyboy" Darry asked.

I looked at Pony, his eyes begging my forgiveness. I put my hand on his arm, looking at Darry. "Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry. Go back to bed."

Pony flipped over and hugged his pillow, the guys waiting at the doorway a second longer before I waved them away. They knew the score. This wasn't the first time they had heard him cry out in the night. Only Darry was left hovering, and he came to sit on the bed. The way he looked, it'd be a wonder if he actually didn't fall off a roof tomorrow. I was sure I didn't look any better.

He put his hand on Pony's back, and looked at him. "You okay now, Pone?" he simply asked.

His messed up mop of wavy light reddish brown hair nodded, and Darry got up, giving me a slight chuck on the shoulder. "Night, Dar." I called. He flipped the lights off and both darkness and silence filled the room.

I pulled the blankets up, and held Ponyboy close to me. I felt his hand on mine softly squeeze, and knew he was sorry. Somethings we didn't have to say to each other. We just knew.

XXX

The woman had taken two buses to cross town, using an address she'd gotten from the phone book. Her side achedstill from the kick she'd gotten a while ago, but her concern overpowered her. She didn't know what she was going to do when she got there, but in innate feeling deep in her core made her go. Slowly she walked down the streets.

The kids walking along the sidewalks and driving the rusty cars around her worried her. Robert had often said how low these people were, how far beneath her and her husbands social class they existed. He had often said how little they valued what they had, and only wanted to take what they could from honest people, any way they could get it. That fear made her leave her purse behind at home, carrying only a few dollars in her pocket to ride the bus, and maybe get a drink from a store if she got thirsty.

She was thirsty now, and looked around, totally unfamiliar with the environment she was in. It made her afraid, and she wrapped her arms around herself, providing her own bit of comfort. Across the street, she saw a dry cleaners and a car wash; and a block further up, a gas station. She fingered one of the dollars in her pocket and headed for the gas station. Maybe they would have something she could buy to drink.

"Morning ma'am," the smiling young man behind the counter said to her as she came in.

"Hello," she said back. She was unsure about this now, the boy had that slicked look in his hair, and she was sure he was one of the hoods Robert spoke of. "Do you sell bottled drinks?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Sure do. Coke, Dr. Pepper, Vernor's Ginger Ale, Pepsi and Mt. Dew. What's your pleasure?" he asked, showing her the machine as if it were a shiny new sports car.

"Um, Pepsi, please," she said, fumbling in her pocket for the dime. Finding one, she handed it over to him and he slid it into the slot. She heard the machine make a noise and a second later, he handed her the bottle with an enchanted smile on his face. She felt a small grin pulling on the corners of her lips, never had a simple drink been delivered to her with such flair. It had been so long since she had a genuine smile on her face, that the feeling was almost foreign to her.

"Here you are, little lady. It's one of my favorites, too. I got a brother that can't seem to drink enough of them. Hungry? We've got some sandwiches in the cooler just waiting to be eaten. There's ham, bologna and roast beef. Would you like to try one?"

His continued kindness surprised her. Unexpectedly, she nodded her head, and that wholesome ear -to- ear grin on the handsome boy warmed her heart.

"Ham, please. How much?" she asked, hoping she had enough to pay, remembering she still had to have enough bus fair to get back before Robert came home. He was coming home later and later now, but she still didn't want to take any chances.

"Well... the boss said we needed to thin the stock down, so why don't you just enjoy and don't worry about it."

He sure was a nice young man. About six feet tall, give or take a few inches and muscular - but not to extremes. Warm, kind eyes, and a smile that wouldn't quit. A bell rang and he hopped up.

"Well, enjoy. If you'll excuse me, I have to go take care of another customer. Have a great day, ma'am." The young man called to her.

"Thank you, son." she called to him, instantly feeling a pain in her heart. She hadn't called anyone 'son' in so long, the word was almost foreign to her.

She continued her walk down the road, eating the sandwich and sipping the soda. That young man looked to be about Bobby's age, maybe a little younger. He seemed nice. She wondered if many of the boys around here were as nice as he was. She wondered also, what that boy was like who lived at the address on the slip of paper she held.

731 N. St. Louis Road. It was around here somewhere, a few blocks away. She almost wished she had asked directions from the young man at the gas station, considering he seemed so friendly. Sighing, she followed the numbers on the mailboxes and - after a bit more walking, found it. She walked to the opposite corner, looking at the house. She tried to make herself invisible, not wanting to be noticed. She remembered how Bobby spoke with his friends about how rough these kids could be. A little while later, a car pulled up and stopped, and she pulled further back into the shadows.

"Hold on, kid. I've told you all week, I ain't gonna let you walk on in there alone. Not till I check it out first," she heard the driver say to the youth walking up the sidewalk.

"Thanks, Tim. Darry's been locking the door since all this mess began. Here, I got the key."

She barely recognized the boy with the slicked back, reddish -brown hair from the court last fall – his hair was blond then and he had been so thin, but despite all the changes, she knew it was him. She wondered what on earth that boy could ever have done to cause Bobby to become so violent. Then she remembered it was the alcohol that made Bobby behave like he did, just like it was alcohol that made Robert the devil he became too. Like father, like son.

The boy waited on the porch of the house while the other man... bigger and more gruff looking, went inside for a while. The boy on the porch looked around, then impatiently shuffled his feet. She longed to speak to him, to wrap her arms around him - protect him from the evil she knew her husband felt for him, but she couldn't. She had failed to protect her own son, what could she do for this boy? Her heart was too empty. The door opened and the bigger man came out. They spoke but she couldn't hear what was said, then the boy went inside. The door closed and the man returned to his car, driving away.

With one finale look, she turned and headed back to the bus stop. The boy was doing okay, her husband hadn't hurt him. She was still concerned for him, even more so now that she had seen him. He was just a _boy_, his young features still prominent on his face. One day, if he was lucky, he'd grow to be a man. She hoped an honorable man. There weren't enough of them around anymore.

XXX

"Got your report card, Ponyboy?" I asked. I could tell he had hoped I'd forgotten the date, but he should know by now I wouldn't. He stopped mid-chew, and looked up at me.

"Yeah, hold on."

He got up and went to his room, Soda looked at me, just raising his eyebrows. Pony returned to the table, placing the card in front of me, then resuming his seat in front of his plate.

I opened it, contemplating the scores in front of me. Mostly "A's," and one "B." Chemistry was doing him in. I looked at him, he refused to meet my glance.

"Think you can bring up the chemistry grade, Pone?"

"I'll do my best, but that's a hard class and it's only getting harder."

I remembered chemistry, and knew he was right. Diagramming elements is one thing, but I knew by the end of the year, it worsened to chemical compounds.

"It's all I can ask," I said, closing the card and setting it aside. "How are the track meets going?"

This seemed to brighten him up. "Final race of the regular season is Wednesday, then - when we pass that, we go into regional competitions. That begins Friday, with Waycross. Coach already has me in my four regular heats. He's changing up the relay pattern though, putting the fastest four of us together of our two teams. Should be interesting."

I smiled. Regionals, now the good part of the season gets going. Ribbons get replaced with trophies. I looked at the mantle, knowing I'd better start weeding out the old ones from last year for the new ones he was sure to bring in soon.

"Good going, Pone. Get through this race first, though."

"No problem, Darry," Soda said. "Pony can run like the wind, can't ya, Pone?"

He smiled. I hadn't seen him smiling like this in a while, and I was glad to see him happy again. He was too young to have too many worries, especially the type of worries I now had.

It'd been two weeks since Sheldon came in our house, and nothing new has been going on that I could tell. I'd gotten the new report from Officer Mitchell, but it was short and brief. I put it with the first one, in my lock box in the floor of my closet. A feeling of apprehension began to come over me, knowing this guy didn't seem like the type to just give up. I could only wonder what he had in store for us next.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	10. Promises

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 10

**Promises**

XXX

"Man, are they ever gonna actually _do_ anything? All they _been_ doing for the last fifteen minutes is stretching. Hell, even I can do that!"

Steve was grumpy, and I understood why. It was hot outside, with a warm April sun bearing down on both of us, and he was still in his jeans and t-shirt. I was dressed a bit cooler, wearing a tank top and shorts; but I had been at work all morning, clocked out and changed an hour ago - while Steve still hadn't gone home to change out of his digs since the last bell rang a half hour ago. He hated the heat - made him agitated, and the summer was still a long way off too.

"Man, why don't you go on home and change out of that hot shit? They'll start running soon, then Pony's practice will be done for the day. We'll meet you at the house later. Sitting here moaning about it won't speed things up."

"Naw, I'm here, may as well stay."

I appreciated the company, but I wasn't fooled. He was just as concerned about Pony's welfare as the rest of us were, but he'd never admit to it. I had come to watch him practice and make sure he got home safely. Tim had called me at the DX earlier to say he couldn't make it; he had to deal with Curly, who'd gotten into a knife fight and was hauled in by the fuzz.

Steve flipped out his lighter and lit his smoke, puffing away while we sat on the top most row of bleacher seats. It was our usual spot so Pony could find us fast. Also, we didn't like to be sandwiched within rows.. never knowing what Soc was behind you waiting to pull a fast one. Today, though, it was silly. We were the only ones here, he'd see us no matter where we sat. Still, we managed to catch something of a breeze this high up, which felt good.

Sure enough, the whistle sounded and Pony and a couple of his teammates spread out over the track. I figured it out - they were working on the 4 x 200 relay. Pony had mentioned there had been some changes, I guess they had to get the kinks worked out before they headed off for the meet this weekend. When they were all in position, Coach blew a whistle, and like a rocket, the runners were off.

"Darry know yet who's screwing with you guys?" Steve asked out of the blue while watching the guys circle the track.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Dunno. I think he knows something, but he ain't telling me. Since nothings happened lately, I haven't thought to ask him about it. I like to stay on Darry's good side and not go bugging him about stuff. Besides, nothing got stolen – hell, ain't like we got much to take. It may not even have been the same guy, either."

Steve turned and looked at me hard. "You really believe that bull shit your saying? Hey," he whacked me on the arm. "It's me, _Steve,_ you're talking to. I was there. You and I both know it was the same guy."

I watched Pony take the baton and run around the field. "Yeah, okay, it was the same guy." I said dropping my fake false hopefulness. I turned to Steve. "I hate this. It ain't safe to walk around again. Pony can't even get in a good practice anymore... and that's screwing with his future. I don't get it, Steve... I don't! Socials don't do this covert crap. They don't hide it when they want a fight, it goes right out into the open. This guy sure is a piece, not even willing to face us... but chooses a fourteen year old kid to pick on? Explain that to me. I don't know about you, but I get the feeling he ain't a soc."

"That thought has crossed my mind. But, you don't want to press Muscles for information. I agree, I think he knows something, too. Weird though, ain't like Darry to keep important stuff like this from you. I would ask, but I ain't itching to get my jaw broke again pushing his buttons."

"Hell, Steve... just come out and say it already. You want me to ask Darry."

"Well, Soda, you know it's the fastest way to find out what's going on. He's less likely to slug you, anyway."

That only made me feel worse, as a searing image of Ponyboy being slapped back against the door flooded my mind. I knew that wasn't what he meant, but damn. "I doubt he'd hit me over this, but right now, the way everything is so out of control.... I don't know, Steve. I just don't know."

"Well, someone's got to get him talking. Things can't go on like this forever. We can't fight an enemy we can't see. Even _you_ are worried, and I don't like that."

"Me? Worried? What makes you think that?"

He looked me straight in the face. "That six inch switchblade you've been carrying around in your back pocket since the night that prick was in your house."

I blinked, not realizing it had been that obvious. I reached in my back pocket and pulled it out, flicking the blade open in the sunshine. I'd been carrying my blade for over a week, my concern about being unarmed if I ever did meet up with whoever was tormenting us being my primary reason for having it in my possession. Pony had more just cause to carry his, being that he seemed to be the target of the torment. Although he wouldn't admit it to me or anyone else, he was genuinely bothered by what was happening, although he only let it show at night when he couldn't help it. He slept restlessly, and more than once I've had to slip his blade from his clutched hand at night. The last thing I needed him to do was have a bad dream and accidentally cut himself, or get so sucked into his nightmare that he wouldn't remember it was me he was sleeping next to, and stab me!

"Don't tell Darry. He's got enough to worry about." I flatly said, closing the blade and putting it back into my pocket.

"Please, Soda. I ain't a rat. You gotta do what you gotta do. That prick that's messing with the kid ain't done. I'd bet my pay he ain't finished. He's planning something. We just got to be ready."

"If he messes with my brother, he'd better be prepared to deal with me." I said, not able to hide the anger in my voice.

"_Us,_ Soda. He'll have to deal with us." Steve ground out the butt of his smoke, and chucked my shoulder. I knew he wasn't referring to just himself. He meant everyone - Tim's people too. It doesn't pay to piss off Tim Shepard. He has connections that seem endless. All dark and mysterious, too.

XXX

Across the street behind them, not thirty feet away from where Soda and Steve sat oblivious to any danger, was a gray Chevy parked by the curb under a pecan tree. The driver wiped the sweat dripping from his face, but refused to lower the windows any more than the two inches he'd put them at. He'd been watching the runners practicing since the bell rang, and no one had paid the car any attention. Next to him on the passenger seat sat the newspaper from two days ago, a story of a young fourteen year old runner with fast feet circled in red marker.

_Having already earned his spot as a district Track and Field Champion, local teenager Ponyboy Curtis is now headed to regional competition with an impressive record....._

Whatever. The kid was fast, but the man was sure he wouldn't be able to outrun what he was planning to do. For now, the heat was stifling him, and he wanted to get out of there. At least get somewhere cooler. He started his car and slowly drove off, watching the kid head toward the bleachers where his pathetic excuse for body guards were sitting. As he turned the corner, the murdering hood stood not ten feet from him, ten lousy feet away. But he had a plan, one that would avenge his son's death once and for all. If he did it right, no one would even know it was him. He pushed the accelerator some and headed out.

Three blocks away, a blue light in his rear view mirror surprised him. He swallowed his anger and pulled over, retrieving from the glove box the documents he knew the officer would want to see.

"Afternoon, sir. License and registration, please," the officer stated.

The man handed the documents over with a smirk.

"Thank you. Just a moment." The officer took them and headed back to his car for a while, then returned. "Mr. Sheldon, I stopped you for speeding. This is a school zone, and the hours for the reduced speed have not expired. Sign the citation here, sir."

The officer handed the man the pink piece of paper, which only enraged him.

"This is bull! Those kids have been out of school for at least an hour now. There ain't no kids even around here!"

"Sir, the signs are posted for the protection and safety of the students and the drivers. There are after school activities that are still going on. Just a few weeks ago, one of the athletes was hit by a motorist. Here's your copy... you can either mail in the payment or appear in court to contest. The choice is yours. Drive safely, sir." The officer turned around to leave.

"And when I go to court, who can I say was the cop that is giving out these pointless tickets?" The man yelled out his window, demanding to know.

The officer stopped, turned around and returned to the drivers window. He carefully pulled his shades down so they could see eye to eye, and with a thick voice said...

"Officer Thomas Mitchell, sir."

The man sat back in his seat, stewing and fuming, but at least staying quiet. When nothing else was spoken, Officer Mitchell returned to his squad car as the man drove away.

Now, after weeks of having Sheldon loosely tailed, Officer Mitchell had finally seen the enemy; seen his eyes and knew what lurked there. He had noticed the paper on the seat next to Sheldon, saw it circled in red, and knew there was more trouble to come. He also knew Sheldon wasn't out riding around in the blue Mustang. He was using his other car, the gray Chevy. Darrel Curtis would need to be told.

XXX

"Darry, we got any ketchup left?" Pony called from the kitchen.

"Pone, if it ain't in the fridge, then I guess we're out. I used a lot of it in the meatloaf two nights ago. Sorry, buddy."

He sulked as he came back to the table, plopping himself down in his chair with a huff for emphasis.

"Eat up. You'll live without ketchup until I can get back to the store on payday," I said.

He picked at his dinner, something he knows I hate. "Look, eat it or don't eat it, but don't pick at it."

"But it ain't no good without ketchup!" he whined.

"Kid, it's turkey... you ain't supposed to put ketchup on turkey!" Steve said, shoveling another forkful in his mouth.

"_I_ do." Pony scowled.

"Hey Darry, me and Steve are gonna head over to the strip later, that okay?" Soda's eyes were dancing, and I knew he was ready to leave right this second if not for my insistence that the three of us eat together more often. With our crazy schedules... I was seeing less and less of my brothers then I liked.

"Sure, be home by midnight. You got your key?"

"I wanna go," Pony chimed in with a hopeful look on his face. Soda produced the house key on his keyring, while Steve scowled at the youngest Curtis.

"School night, Pony. You know better." I always had to be the 'bad older brother'. He scowled worse and got up in a huff, nearly overturning his chair as he sulked to his room, shutting the door behind him. I took the mostly untouched turkey from his plate and put it on mine, dumping the rest of the gravy over it and started in.

"I'll be back by then. Steve said there was a new waitress at the Burger Barn with the most amazing... accent!" he grinned with that look on his face, and the both of them laughed, but I wasn't even a bit fooled.

"Well, since you had dinner_ here_, I don't think you should be hungry enough to taste anything on her 'menu'. Got me, Pepsi?"

"Man, you are _so_ busted!" Steve only laughed harder.

XXX

Soda and Steve had been gone an hour and Pony had just gotten in the shower when I heard a knock on the front door. Had to be Two-Bit, as I wouldn't expect anyone else to show up knocking at my door at this hour. I had a surprise waiting for me, though.

"Mr. Curtis, evening, sir. Do you have a few minutes?"

The cop, Officer Mitchell, was standing in the dim glow of my porch. He was dressed in his own clothes instead of his uniform, and I noticed that wasn't a police cruiser parked at my curb. I nervously glanced back at the bathroom door and moved aside, allowing the officer in.

"Just a few, what can I do for you officer?"

"I noticed you're locking your doors now. That's good. Look, I don't know what Sheldon is doing, or if he's even planning anything, but my gut says he is. I've been trying to find some connection, something besides their history from last fall."

He must have read the expression on my face, because he nodded as he continued. I glanced again nervously at the bathroom doorway, glad to still hear the water running. For once, I hoped Pony would forget my rants about the water bill and take a long shower.

"Yes, Mr. Curtis, I've done some digging, and I know about the near drowning Ponyboy suffered at the hands of Sheldon's son, followed by Sheldon's stabbing death. So far, though, everything now is just either circumstantial or coincidental. If Ponyboy had just _seen_ the driver in addition to the plates, then I'd have something more to go on."

"I appreciate this and all, but why are you here? Knowing Ponyboy was nearly killed by Sheldon's son wasn't some big hidden mystery, but Ponyboy wasn't the one who knifed him, either. That was Johnny Cade, and he's dead too. All this was over and done with months ago, so what is it? Why does that man have it in for my brother when it was _his _son who nearly killed Pony in the first place? Has anything new developed?" I was seething mad at the unfolding of events that not even the cops could get a handle on, yet desperate for Pony to not know what was being said just a few feet from him.

"Nothing new that I am certain of. Everything is just a hunch right now. I do know this - Sheldon has another car, a gray Chevy, so if you see one that doesn't belong roaming the neighborhood, call me. Also, just keep an eye on Ponyboy and your surroundings. I'm not sure, but I don't think Sheldon is done hassling him. Don't let your guard down. That's it, basically. Call me if you need me. You have my number."

The water faucets turned off and I opened the door, hoping Mitchell got the hint. He did. I said my goodbye's as he stepped out onto the porch.

"I have kept an eye on him, and I'll call you if Sheldon gives us any more trouble. Thanks, officer." I shut the front door just as the bathroom door opened, allowing a blast of steam out. Ponyboy held his towel low around him with one hand on the knot at his hip.

"Well, any hot water left?" I asked him with a smile, trying to hide the apprehension I now felt.

"Sorry, I kinda got carried away. Was someone here? I thought I heard someone's voice."

"Just the cops telling me to park closer to the curb. You know the score. If you have your homework done, you can watch TV. I'll watch with you, or we can play cards for a while- maybe teach you a few tricks about poker... improve your game some."

He looked at me, water dripping from his wet tufts of hair and down his ears and neck, even off his eyelashes. It was the same hard look he gave his novels when he was really into them. He wouldn't blink, just stared.

"Darry, what aren't you telling me?"

I wasn't fooling him for a damn bit. He may not be good at poker, but he was sure getting better at reading my tells. "Nothing, Ponyboy. There's nothing going on. You're dripping all over the floor, though. Go dry off and get dressed."

"Darry, what ever it is, it must involve me. Too much has gone on for something so insignificant as parking too far from the curb – something, by the way, you never do - to rile you. What is it? Don't hide it from me. No more secrets, remember? I ain't a kid. Whatever it is, have a little trust in me. I can handle it."

I turned to look at him,_ really_ look at him. Along with his true hair color, his build had improved. His workout regimen for track was such that all the definition he had lost last fall had returned, with some to spare too. The cuts on his ab's were visible. Along with the build, he had grown some, too. His arms and legs were slightly longer and thicker, and while he stood there with only that towel covering what nature sent him into the world with, I even noticed the faint line of hair starting to peak above the towel descending from his navel. But still, he carried that young innocent look in his clean unshaven face. He was physically caught somewhere well past the point of an innocent boy but had not quite reached the mature teen stage. He did, however, possess an adults dogged determination to get to the bottom of things. He wanted to know so badly? Alright, I'd tell him - but only a little.

"The cop wanted to tell me he didn't think the person who had been bothering you - the same guy who broke into our house, was finished. He just wanted to make sure I hadn't dropped my guard, that I was still keeping an eye out for you. That's all. Stupid, really - him reminding me to do what I've always done. I never do let my guard down. If the cops lived our lives, they'd understand that."

I looked closer at him. He still hadn't moved, water starting to pool at his feet. The expression on his face was eerie. I went and stood next to him, looking down into his green eyes.

"Ponyboy, I_ haven't _let my guard down_._ I promise you, little buddy, he's not gonna bother you again." I said with conviction.

He looked at me, just as certain. "Don't make promises you can't keep." He turned and went back to his room. I heard his dresser open and close, then the light flipped off as he closed his door. I few seconds later, I heard the creak of his mattress as he went to bed.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	11. Taking A Chance

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 11

**Taking A Chance**

XXX

Regionals.

It was a beautiful few days to run, too. Coach brought me and the seven others that qualified out to Ponca City a day early, the athletic's booster club paying for all our fee's. The cheerleaders were along for the ride, along with the four girls that qualified from our school's girls track team. It was an unusual trip, the chaperons for the girls strategically perched between them in the front of the bus and us guys lounging around in the back. There was a no-man's land of 2 rows of seats between us guys and the chaperons, and another row or two from them to the girls. All our bags were stored on those empty seats.

The girls were huddled up - giggling and whispering to each other, occasionally one would lift her head up and smile at us. That got old _real _quick... like before we even left the school parking lot. I lay back longways across my seat and tuned them out. It was an agonizing two hour ride on the bus, and not even the honor of being sent to regionals got me off the bus and into the truck with Soda and Darry. They left after we did, but for them it wouldn't take so long to get there. They were staying in the same hotel, and coach had at least given his permission for me to stay with them in their room.

Last year mom and dad just let me go on the trip with the team and drove down to see me run the day of the race, but Darry wasn't having it. He and Soda had both been working extra hours lately to afford this little get away. I wasn't so sure if it was because we really needed to get out of the city for a while, or if it was because they were worried my troubles would follow me; but either way, I didn't really care. It was like our own little vacation, and I appreciated it.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we're here. Everyone grab your gear and wait in the lobby while Coach Olsen and I get the rooms arranged."

Coach Olsen was the ladies track coach. She was also tending to the cheerleaders. In other words... she wasn't letting anyone with a Y chromosome near her precious charges. In her mind, we were all just a bunch of dirty boys no matter what side of the tracks we lived on. We joked about her in the guys locker room, and the consensus was she just couldn't get laid, and that's what made her madder than a hornet.

"Hey, Pone," Soda called as we walked into the lobby. He was waiting with Darry in the empty hotel cafe, and I went over and sat down, grabbing his Pepsi and swigging it.

"Hey Soda." I said as I finished off his drink.

"Have a fun trip with the girls on the bus?" he was teasing me. Darry got up and went to speak to Coach Devers, leaving me alone with Soda.

"Oh yeah. Huge orgy fest, you should have heard Coach Olsen screaming in ecstasy as I got her there five times. How was your ride?" I asked dryly.

"Kid, don't let Darry hear you talking like that," he laughed. "Boring, as usual. Come on, lets get out of here and up to the room. See what kind of junk they got on the room service menu."

I grabbed my bag and followed him. "Soda, you know we can't order no room service. Darry will kill us."

"I didn't say we'd _order_ anything, just that we'd look! Come on!" He pulled me to the elevator, and up we went.

XXX

There was a "meet and greet" in the lobby of the hotel that evening. There were seven schools in our region registered here in the hotel we were in. Other hotels in the area had the same thing going on. I really wasn't into personally knowing my competition, so I never understood what the big deal was. Still, coach made it mandatory that everyone show up, and Darry also - oddly enough - insisted I go out, so I put on my school jersey as required and a pair of cut off jeans and headed down to the conference hall that evening.

The place was packed. They had a good band playing and several of the people were dancing, some were hanging by the pool, and still others were just milling about - looking like I probably did, wishing this mandatory get together was over. I found a table in the corner and sat down, but I wasn't alone long. My coach's booming voice startled me.

"Here you are, Ponyboy! Thought I was going to have to go up and haul you from your room soon. Have fun, son, you've earned it. Tomorrow you work, tonight... relax a bit. Here's your dinner voucher and two drink vouchers. Eat whenever you're ready. Any problems, I'll be over by the doorway watching the pool and the dance floor. Okay?"

"Thanks, Coach."

I used one of the drink vouchers to get a Pepsi, wondering how long I had to sit here and be noticed as having shown up before I could slip back upstairs to hang out with my brothers in front of the TV. While I sat here, I thought about the crap that was happening in my life, the break in of our house and how it had to be linked with that blue Mustang. I never even heard the girl sneek up next to me, snapping her fingers to get my attention.

"Wow, I hope you're a little faster when the starter's pistol goes off tomorrow!" she said, smiling at me.

"Huh?" I asked, pulled out of my daze.

She shook her head at me, a grin plastered on her face. "Names Megan Ornette. I'm from Rockhill High. This is my first year at Regionals. I understand this is your second year?"

"Yeah. My name's Ponyboy Curtis. How did you know this was my second year here?"

"Some of the other girls were talking, pointing out this years potential winners to me. You really don't look like you want to race though. You're a million miles away when I came up to talk to you a minute ago. Everyone else seems pumped up on adrenaline, and yet you're just sitting here, nursing that Coke."

"Pepsi. Never confuse the two. I'll be ready to race tomorrow." I kept quiet, and she seemed to fidget some. I didn't know what to say to her, but she was kinda cute. Her light brown hair was swept up in a rubber band, and her matching light brown eyes danced a bit. A few freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, and she had a dimple on her right cheek that I could see when she smiled. She was wearing her school jersey too, number 11, over a burgundy cotton shirt and well fitted knee shorts.

"Have you eaten yet?" she finally spoke. I shook my head. She looked around, then ducked her voice some. "Mind if I sit here, there aren't any other tables available."

"I guess so. Help yourself."

"Thanks!" Megan smiled and pulled out the chair while I flagged down the waitress. I pulled out my crinkled voucher and Megan handed the waitress hers too, and the waitress went to get our plates. The plates were all the same, chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, a biscuit and cake for desert. An extra drink came with it. Not bad... considering the school paid for it.

"So what's got you a million miles from here, Ponyboy?"

"Why do you ask?"

Megan smirked a bit, then shrugged. "Hey, it's no sweat off my back if you don't want to talk. I just figured it would be nice to pass the time. I wasn't asking for marriage, just conversation."

That made me smile. She didn't seem to be some introvert, that was obvious.

"See, I knew there was a smile down in you somewhere. How did you do last year? Here, at regionals I mean? The girls didn't fill me in."

"Not too badly, placed in three of my four events. One of our guys dropped the baton in the relay, so we were disqualified from that." I didn't want to say I'd placed first in those three events, knowing an ounce of pretension was worth a pound of manure.

"Ewww... that bites. We didn't even qualify for the relay. We have guys good at each individual event, but none of them can work together as a group to do a relay."

"Our group is really tight when it comes to racing. Jimmy just managed to drop the stupid baton on the handoff last year. All our sports teams are like that – real tight, but take away the sports, and all cohesiveness goes out the window."

"Really? You're kidding. Why?" She seemed genuinely interested. I just looked at her, and shook my head.

"I take it you don't have gangs where you live?"

She shook her head. "There are bullies, sure, but no gangs per se. Everyone just sort of gets along. We have nerds at our school, but they stay off to themselves and don't cause anyone trouble. I've read about gangs in the paper though. Tulsa not a great place to live, I take it?"

"Depends on what side of the track you live on."

"Huh?" she asked.

And that started it. I don't know why my mouth wouldn't just shut up, but for the second time in my life, I was telling a girl stuff I usually kept private. I told her about Socials and Greasers, the differences between the classes and the unseen likenesses between them.

"And just how did you get this great insight on how the other side feels?"

I poked at my dry biscuit, debating whether I should go on. I haven't even talked this over with my brothers, let alone strangers - how I felt about stuff. Darry'd read my theme when I got it back from Mr. Symes with a B for the semester grade. He'd told me the theme itself was worth an "A", but my average still wouldn't work out higher. I didn't care. Darry, however, didn't say anything about it, just nodded his head, handed it back to me and patted my back as he went outside to work on the truck with Soda that afternoon.

To this day, he still hasn't said a word to me. I guess I hurt him with all the comments I put in about how I cared more for Soda than Darry. At the time when I wrote it, it was the truth of how I felt. Now though, I know I love them equally, just in different ways. Darry is more the provider and disciplinarian, Soda more the guardian and caregiver. They both love me too, I know that. I dunno how to put it otherwise, but it makes sense in my head.

"Well, last fall, I sort of fell into a hornets nest of trouble." I told her as briefly as I could about the mess in the park, my running away, the week in the church, the fire and my return back home. I tried to briefly tell her about the rumble - but she was very interested in that and wanted as many details as I could give her. She had never before heard about a full gang -on- gang skin fight, and judging by the look in her eyes, maybe she though it was more glory than the pain, blood and bruising it really was. And if caught by the police...a blot on your record and at least a night in jail.

"Then Johnny died, Dallas robbed a store and got shot dead by the cops for it, and I ended up with a concussion from hell that kept me bedridden for a week. Trust me, a week in bed with nothing to do but _think_ makes you see things in a new perspective. Don't get me wrong, I ain't no whus. I wont back down from a fight if someone starts picking on me, but I generally leave others alone. Anyway, things really didn't change; they still hate us and we still hate them, but the_ fighting,_ at least, happens less and less. I guess I was stupid for thinking the two classes of people could let the differences between us go.

"No, not stupid. It sounds to me like the seeds of discontent are just buried too deep for one big fight to uproot them, or for one person to stop them. Give it time. Things will change."

What she said made sense, and I appreciated it. She really was listening. She had even gasped when I told her the part about Johnny dying... and I secretly thought about how he'd have gotten a kick about me sitting here telling Megan stuff so personal and private that I don't even discuss it with either Darry or Soda. Maybe with Megan, I knew after tomorrow I probably wouldn't see her again anyway, so it wouldn't matter.

"Did it end there? You recovered from the kick to your head and went on with life?"

"Sort of. There was a court hearing, I was acquitted and Darry retained custody of me and Soda. _That's _when I got on with my life."

Both our plates were finished, the only thing being left was the dried out yellow cake that even I couldn't choke down. I was on my last voucher for Pepsi, and most of the people had gone outside where it was cooler.

"Then everything turned to crap again." I mumbled.

She just kept looking at me. "A little more detail, please."

I pushed the cake away and leaned on my arms, which were crossed on the table. Mom would have skinned me by now, cussing while talking to a girl _and_ having my elbows on the table. Oh well.

"Everything was just great until two months ago, when the other shoe dropped and someone started following me, leaving me twisted messages, tried to run me down with their car and broke into my house while everyone was at one of my regular track meets."

"Tried to run you down? Broke into your house? Are you kidding me?"

I looked in her brown eyes. "Do I _look_ like I'm kidding you?"

"Damn!" she said low and quietly. I was shocked to hear her say that, never picturing her for such language.

"What? Didn't think I knew a few words or how to use them? Just because we don't have gangs at our school doesn't mean we don't know how to talk rough, especially when away from our folks! I'm fifteen, live a little!" She grinned again, making me smile too.

"Fifteen? When is your birthday?"

"Two weeks ago. Why, how old are you?"

"Fourteen. My birthday's in July. Your folks aren't here?" I looked around.

"No. They'll be here tomorrow for the races though. So anyway, you were saying?"

"What?" I asked, sidetracked. Derailed was more the appropriate term.

"The cops! What did the cops do? When you got run off the road and your house was broken into?" she really was interested... if not captivated. Personally, I didn't think the story sounded _that _good.

"Nothing. My brother, Darry, insisted on a police report, but the fuzz never do us any favors. They came by to tell us to keep on the lookout. Sort of stupid for them to do that. We live with one eye open all the time."

"Man, I never knew things could be so rough. I'm sorry, Ponyboy."

That sort of hit a chord with me. "Don't be sorry. I don't want anyone's pity."

"Pity wasn't what I was implying. I find your strength impressive. You won't let whoever this person is stop you from your goal. That's a strength even I don't know if I possess."

"Oh, you seem like a tough gal. I think you could do it." I smiled, and she blushed. She looked kinda cute, sitting here turning a few shades of red.

"So that's it?" she prodded for more.

I nodded. "That's it. My brothers are upstairs watching TV while I'm down here blabbing my guts out to a pretty gal whom I really know nothing about."

She blushed, then got even redder. It hit me what I'd said, and I tripped over my own tongue trying to backpedal out of it.

"I mean, that is, what I meant to say was... I uh... well... damn. Sorry." Now I was a few shades of crimson too.

She hopped off the chair, and looked at the dance floor. "Do you dance?"

You have_ got _to be kidding me. Yes, I have been to many dances... but going to them and actually dancing were two seperate things. "Not very well," was the best I could come up with, and that was lame enough.

"Well?" She held out her hand. "You want to know more about me? I'll tell you, but on my terms. Or are you chicken?"

I gave in. "Okay, one fool, coming up." I said as I walked with her to the dance floor. They had a good swinging song on, and I had to admit it was fun. I got to know quite a bit about Megan, her family, and why she lived where she did. She said she was good at running and I believed her. You don't get to regionals talking your way to it. She said she also played basketball with her older brother, but since her school didn't have a girls team, she couldn't compete in it.

She didn't have many friends outside the running circuit; girls in her hometown were expected to grow up to be wives and mothers... and if any girl actually went to college, it was to become a teacher. Therefore, most of the women in her town didn't work outside of the home. She, however, had other dreams and greater aspirations, so she was often snubbed by others. I sort of understood.

We danced and talked for most of the evening, mixing in with the others, and I just forgot everything and had fun. It had been a long, long time since I really let myself have any fun, too. I was just glad my brothers were upstairs watching TV - because I'm sure if they saw me, they'd never let me live it down.

XXX

"Here, I couldn't find what you wanted, I hope you don't mind this instead." Darry handed me a pulled pork sandwich loaded to the hilt with coleslaw.

"This is great, thanks Darry. Got any baked beans?"

"Hell no. Not when I have to sleep in the same room with you and Ponyboy tonight. I got fries instead. Where is he, I thought he'd have ditched the party by now and be up here glued to the TV with you?" He looked around, but no one was in the bathroom. This wasn't a house - it was a hotel room, so there weren't any places to hide.

"I dunno. Maybe coach has him doing stuff. No telling." I grabbed my sandwich and headed out on the patio, where I could eat without having to worry about getting sauce from the sandwich all over the bed. Darry had us on the fifth floor, over looking the pool and the patio down below. Across the roof top of the adjacent building, I could see the ribbon of freeway in the distance. Down below, the music was just loud enough to where I could hear it. They had all sorts of songs going, stuff by The Who, The Beach Boys, Bill Haley and the Comets, and Chubby Checker too. I finished my food, and looked over the railing to watch the action, wishing for a minute I could go down there and mix in. Then I saw something that I couldn't believe. I even had to put my drink down and rub my eyes. I felt a smile creep across my face.

"Darry, come here." I called.

"What is it Soda, I finally found something good on the tube."

"Darry... come... _here_!" I waved my hand behind me but didn't take my eyes off what I saw.

"Fine, but really... the teen scene ain't my thing, buddy boy. I'm a few years older than all of them, remember?"

I looked him in the eyes, smiling ear to ear as he joined me at the railing. "See anyone familiar down there?"

Darry scanned the group below us. "Nope."

"Damn, Darry. You need glasses or something? Look, over by the brunette in the orange jersey wearing the burgundy shirt. On the dance floor. See the guy she's dancing with? He look familiar to you?"

I could tell when his eyes saw what mine had. He grabbed the railing with both hands and squinted. Maybe he _did_ need glasses. "Is that ...Ponyboy?" he asked in amused realization. _"Our_ Ponyboy?"

"Yup. Guess he found something more interesting than either the TV or a book for a change."

I was nearly laughing. Pony spent so much time with his nose stuffed in books or, more recently, working out in the garage with Darry's barbells and weights getting ready for track; that he never notices the girls walking by our fence, or their eyes following him when he hangs out with me at work. Yet, there he was, dancing with some brunette on the dance floor. I vaguely wondered if this was the first time he'd even touched a girls hand. Okay, he was only dancing... but it was a start. A big start.

I laughed.

"What's so funny?" Darry asked, also mesmerized by the events unfolding below us.

"Too bad Steve and Two-Bit ain't here to see this." I quipped. "They'll never believe us."

Darry looked at me, then got a look on his face. He went back inside and rifled through his bag, pulling out his camera.

"Perfect!" I said with a sly grin.

"I only hope the focus will reach that far."

He took a few shots, and for a while, Darry and I just stood there, watching our youngest brother simply having fun. I was glad for him, he hadn't had any real fun in so long, I couldn't even remember it.

"He's growing up, Darry." I said quietly.

"Yeah, I was noticing that myself." Darry put away his camera.

For a while, we watched over the railing, then went back inside.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

A/N - No, Darry doesn't have a digital camera - they didn't exist then. But there were camera's back in the 60's with multiple lenses, and he has one. Also, the comments Pony had on the bus were to Soda, in a brotherly teasing type of way. Soda know's nothing of the sort happened on the bus. Had others been around Soda and Pony during this conversation, that would not have been said. Pony even waited to say this until Darry was out of earshot. Thanks for reading!


	12. Secrets Beneath The Water

Authors Note: Yup.... I make mistakes too. I wrote the chapter not realizing how really far camera's have come since the 60's. Yes.. there were film camera's with what we refer to now as zoom lenses, but they were primitive by today's standards of camera capabilities – even for film. Anyone remember that stuff? I acknowledge that there was probably no way Darry could have gotten any good, clear, pictures of Ponyboy dancing with Megan from his fifth story balcony room. The type of camera I had pictured in my head for such shots were the type with lenses that you could add onto the camera... I had one, long ago. My apologies for that inconsistency in the story, I had good intentions. Anyway, onward! Just a little more levity before it gets heavy again. Thanks!

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 12

**Secrets Beneath The Water**

XXX

"This has been fun." I looked at Megan and couldn't help but smile. The stars were out and the air was slightly cool, but I didn't care. We'd been sitting on the pool's edge for a while, both of us with our feet in the water, our shoes and jerseys long since discarded in a heap on a pool side table. Most of the runners had gone inside, or off to get some real food. Coach Devers was still hanging around, I noticed him a few times at the door just inside the cafe area.

"Yeah. A blast alright. Funny, those girls told me you didn't talk. Bet me a dollar I couldn't get two words out of you, " she giggled. "Guess I'll have to go collect later."

Her brown eyes twinkled in the night. I had to smile too.

"I didn't know I was a bet."

"Oh, Ponyboy... can't you take a little teasing? It was worth it, even if I had lost. Anyway, I would have stayed here with you all afternoon bet or no bet."

Silence.

"You _are_, ya know."

"What?" I wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Worth it." She grinned and splashed her feet.

I felt my ears go hot. I'd never heard a girl talk about me like this.

"Too bad the pool ain't officially open. It's a nice night out for a swim." She was looking around, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you crazy? It's only April. Late April, sure, but still April. Beside, I didn't bring my swim stuff."

She stood up. "So? You _did _bring a change of clothes in your room, didn't you? Or are you planning on wearing _that_ for the whole time you are here?"

And with that, she jumped in, clothes and all. When she came up, she looked at me and smiled. "Well? Chicken?"

Shit, I know Darry's gonna kill me, but what the hell. I got up, took off my shirt and jumped in next to her, hearing her laugh.

"Sh sh shiiiitttttt that's co- co- cold!" I stammered, my jaw instantly chattering away.

"Swim! You'll warm up. Come on, race you to the other side and back!"

XXX

"Darry, you won't believe this. Get over here."

Soda was calling me back to the balcony again. I was glad Pony was having fun, and even happier he was able to talk to girls his age. I didn't think it necessary to snoop on his every moment with her unless I needed to break something up, like - say with a big bucket of cold water that is. Considering his time with girls totaled only the hours of this afternoon, I didn't think he was_ that_ fast a mover.

"Now what, Soda?" I looked over the balcony and did a double take.

Merciful heavens. He was in the pool. Shirtless. Wearing only his cut up jeans that he'd turned into shorts last week. And he wasn't alone, either. She, thankfully, was dressed. Perhaps I had underestimated how fast he was! I could faintly hear them laughing all the way up here, now that the music was off and most of the other athletes had gone elsewhere. I looked around and spotted his coach and another adult I didn't recognize, but assumed it was her coach as well. They were watching the renegade pool occupants and talking to each other over by the doorway.

"Should we go down there?" Soda was asking.

I debated it for a moment, but shook my head. There were enough eyes on them already, from all angles. "I have a feeling you ain't gonna let him out of your sight, so I tell you what. If you see any more clothes coming off, THEN you can go down there." I watched them doing laps in the pool, and returned inside. That brother was going to give me an ulcer, I swear!

XXX

She soundly beat me in the pool, but I was slowly turning into a popsicle. It had to be in the 60's, but it felt like the 30's. This was not going to be good for me, certain I was going to catch pneumonia. I got dead center of the pool, where the water was the warmest, and treaded. She swam over and did the same, with about a foot or more distance between us.

"Megan, this is insane. Now I am tired _and_ cold. Do you do this where you live? Go swimming in cold water when it ain't even summer yet?"

"Not really. I've done this once before, but not with someone so interesting. But I do love to live dangerously. Besides, no one's screaming at us to get out. It's kinda nice, don't you think?"

"What? Don't I think - what?" My brain had frozen, too. Geez! My teeth were still chattering so hard I was sure I was going to break a tooth.

I hadn't realized she had slowly swam closer to me, until the distance was practically gone. Coach Devers was headed over, as was the other chaperon. Megan saw them too.

"Quick, Pony... take a breath!"

My brain was still able to compute that, and I did as asked, and together she and I flipped over under the water. What happened next, concealed by darkness and blurred by the depth of water, was something I won't say. But as I emerged from the pool a few dizzying seconds later, I bore a grin even my chattering teeth couldn't hide.

"Ponyboy, I think you better go inside and rest up for the tournament tomorrow. Last year you didn't do so well at State because of a cold you were coming down with. I don't want to see a repeat of that this year."

"Yes, Coach." He handed me a towel, my shirt and jersey. I grabbed my shoes as we passed by the table.

Looking over at Megan, she was getting a similar chastisement from her coach. She smiled at me as we were led together into the hotel and over to the elevators; our coaches right behind as if we were two kids caught with our hands in the cookie jar. I didn't know how I looked, but my face was still rather hot. The whole way up, I noticed she kept giving me a sideways glance hidden behind her wet hair, now crinkling with frizz and dripping with the chlorinated pool water.

"Good luck tomorrow, Ponyboy," she suddenly called out to me as she and her coach got off on the fourth floor.

"You too, Megan. Night!" I called to her as the doors shut.

"Ponyboy? You are certainly full of surprises, young man."

"Thanks, Coach." I said as the doors opened on the fifth floor, and he walked me all the way to my room. I wondered if he thought I was gonna bolt and go down the stairs without his personal escort. He knocked, seeing as how I didn't have a key.

Darry opened the door, and had the most unusual look on his face.

"Coach," he simply acknowledged, holding the door open wide enough while stepping aside some for me to go under his arm and into the room.

"Darrel." Man, were they in cahoots with the simple talk or what?

I couldn't tell if Darry was amused to find me unexpectedly dripping wet with a towel around my shoulders, or peeved. Which ever, the warmer temperatures inside the hotel and the still warmer room thermostat setting sent me straight to the bathroom to pee.

"Good night, Ponyboy." Coach called after me as Darry closed the room door.

When I was done, I knew I was in for it. Nowhere to hide though, so I just tried to put on a neutral face and opened the door.

"Little early for swim season, don't you think?" Darry said, more a statement than a question. He was sitting on the corner of one of the beds. "Have fun tonight, Pone?"

"Yeah. Food was okay... cake was dry as a bone. Not enough oil. Soda could teach them a thing or two about cakes."

"Funny - how much teaching went on tonight." Darry said. I knew there was a hidden meaning, but I kept quiet.

"Does she have a name?" he asked in a quiet, curious voice.

"Who?" I asked. That was as stupid a question as I could have asked, and judging by the look on his face, he felt the same.

"Oh, her. Megan. She runs for Rockhill High. Hurdles, among other events."

"Uh huh. And exactly _what_ hurdles did _you_ jump tonight?"

"Say again?" I asked.

"Hey, Pone. Come here a second, I wanna show you something." Soda was calling to me from the balcony. I looked at Darry, and he gave a slight nod. I went over to Soda, and looked out at the night sky.

"This is a pretty tuff room Darry got us. You can see for miles around. And if you look straight down, you can see the pool. So, stud, did you at least get some tongue out of that last dive or not?"

"Soda!" Darry called in a wary voice.

"Hey, you had your shot. It's my turn now. So, Pony?"

I couldn't help smiling. "Soda, I ain't gonna tell. You obviously watched us as closely as Devers did, so you know nothing happened. Now, I'm cold... and I'm gonna go take a shower."

I turned and headed off to the bathroom, eager to get out of my wet clothes and finally warm up under the hot spray. I wondered just how much Soda and Darry _did _see.

After I got out of the shower, Both Darry and Soda were already in the beds, but neither were asleep. I went around and got in next to Soda and curled up. Soda turned out the lamp on his side of the bed, and Darry did the same with his. I was antsy, knowing I had an important race day in front of me, but I wasn't quite sure that was the only cause for the butterflies in my stomach. I flipped and flopped for a while, earning a few tired "Pony, go to sleep," calls from Darry. I wished I could just turn off, be like a light switch; but it wasn't happening tonight. This _wasn't _my bed, the sounds outside on the patio _weren't _from our street, and my stupid mind wouldn't shut off what had happened to me for the last few hours.

"Pony," Soda whispered.

"Yeah?"

I felt his hand on my back, rubbing in circles. At least I could count on Soda to help.

"Stop thinking, just relax and go to sleep."

I concentrated on those circles he was making. Before long, I was out.

XXX

It was shaping up to be another warm day when we boarded the bus and headed out to the arena. We were already in our uniforms, wearing sweats over them to keep warm. We carried our cleats to change into once we got to the field.

There was a huge crowd, with about 800 athletes here. Everywhere you looked, the field was moving with people stretching and warming up. And for every kid out here, there had to be at least two or three people in the stands. I scanned the crowd, but there was no way I was gonna find my brothers. There were just too many people. I did, however, recognize Rockhill's people, and saw Megan warming up. I didn't mean to, but I smiled. I was glad no one noticed.

After a while of warm ups, Coach came over and handed everyone our stickers to put on our jerseys. A whistle sounded and the first of the events were called.

XXX

"How do you think he's gonna do?" I asked Darry. He was scanning the field like I was, searching for his teal and gold jersey.

"There's his group," he pointed over to the far corner of the arena. "As long as he keeps his head on what he's got to do, instead of that girl he met last night, he should do fine. How did he sleep?"

It was always hit and miss at these things, never knowing where his coach was gonna park the students. Darry had found his group, but we kept scanning for Ponyboy.

"Bingo... far corner, just under the awning's shadow." I pointed, Darry followed my finger and he eventually nodded. "As far as sleeping, once he _got _to sleep, he seemed okay. He was all tensed up though, before nodding off."

"Girls. Last thing he needed to get started on just hours before having to race. That coach should have pulled them apart sooner. What _did_ happen in the pool, anyway?"

I looked at Darry, grinning. Pony was keeping it from me, and honestly, I really didn't know. The way he had turned beet red and grinned sort of told me what I guessed, but I really wasn't certain. Considering it was _Ponyboy _we were talking about, it could have been something very innocent... or not. _Something_ happened, that much I was sure of. "Dunno. If he starts talking in his sleep, I'll ask."

One thing about track... if you are the spectator, it's a whole lot of sit and wait. For the athletes, it was a whole lot of wait followed by a little bit of run. I hated sitting still this long. I didn't know how others did it. My mind wandered, and I thought of something that needed resolving.

"Darry, now that you're sort of in a good mood, we got other issues to talk about. And they concern Pony. Don't feed me some nonsense, let me in."

He dropped the smile right off his face. His blue eyes went serious, and I was wondering why in Hell Steve convinced me to do this.

"What's going on? Who's the creep after Ponyboy? How can I help protect him when I don't have all the information?"

Darry sat forward and stretched. These seats were uncomfortable, but we hadn't been in them that long. He was debating what to tell me.

"Look, Soda. The cops are still looking into it. They think they know who's doing this, but they ain't sure. They have no proof. Going over to the guys house and ripping him to shreds would do no good; we would be the ones in jail, and Pony would be in State custody in a heartbeat. Do you really want that? Cause if I tell you what I know, you _got _to keep a level head about it and not act. No matter how much you will want to."

"I ain't ten, Darry. I think I can behave."

He looked at me with skepticism. "Buddy, when you hear, you will want to change your mind."

"Just cough up the info, already!"

"Hold on, Pony's on the starting blocks."

A gun sounded and they were off, Pony hanging out in lane 2, running for all he was worth. The guy in lane four had a slight edge, but Pony put it in fifth gear and managed to edge the other guy out just as they got within feet of the finish line.

"Whoo, hoo! Way to go Ponyboy!" I screamed, much to the discontent of the people sitting around me. They could bite me as far as I was concerned. With Darry wearing that muscle shirt of his, I seriously doubted anyone would say a thing, That was my kid brother running to win down there, and I was gonna cheer him on.

Darry was whistling and clapping too. Once we settled back into our seats and watched Pony getting his congratulatory pats on his back from his team mates, I prompted Darry again.

"Who do the cops think is screwing with Pony, Darry? Come on, man. Don't keep me hanging in the dark."

Darry sat forward, elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to me.

"The cop thinks the guy doing this is Bob Sheldon's father," he said flatly.

I looked at him, confused. "Who?" I shrugged my shoulders, not remembering the name.

Darry shook his head, looking at his feet. Then he looked at me again. "The kid Johnny killed in the park that night, Bob Sheldon? His father is Robert Sheldon. That's who the cops think is doing this. They have no proof though."

It clicked then, who he was, and the events of last fall flew across my memory. It literally gave me shivers. I sat next to Darry in silence, thinking it through. It was plausible, sure; but the more I thought of it, the more I didn't understand it. Finally, I spoke up. "But Darry, that doesn't make sense. Johnny killed..."

"I know," he said.

"Pony was being _drowned_ when..."

"I know," he repeated.

"Pony had nothing..."

"I know!" he finished.

"Are you gonna let me talk? Pony had nothing to do with his crappy kid getting knifed, too busy being drowned at the time. It was Johnny who did that. Everyone _knows _this. Why would Sheldon's dad be taking it out on Pony? And it's been since September when all that happened... he's just _now _getting his briefs in a bunch about it? Come on! That doesn't make sense. Maybe the cops ain't got no one, found out about Pony's past and are just trying to make the loose ends meet. Ever consider that?"

"Yep, I have. But the plates to the car that nearly ran into him that day belong to a car Robert Sheldon owns."

"They do? What did ..."

"Hold on, Soda... Pony's up again."

It was the 200 meter distance, and as he had done so many times before, he was on fire. He finished first again, but he had better competition this time. The runners were all great.

"Darry what did the cop say Sheldon's excuse was when Sheldon got hauled in for questioning?"

Darry didn't say anything. I thought maybe he didn't hear me.

"Darry... the cop? What did he say Sheldon..."

"Sheldon hasn't been interviewed yet. At least not that I am aware of."

That lit me up. "Greasers get hauled in for everything, and they ain't even gonna bother to ask this Soc father if he was the one who nearly ran over Pony?"

"Would you keep your voice down?" Darry had his face right up to mine, making sure I was paying _very_ close attention. I hadn't seen him this mad since... well, since the night Pony ran off. But he wasn't going to hit me, I could see it in his eyes.

"I _cannot_ make the cops do their job. And this cop, Mitchell, actually seems to be trying to help. I don't know why he hasn't pulled Sheldon in for a chat, but he must have his reasons. Greasers are a dime a dozen, Sheldon has money, and money means power. You know this already. Until he's got enough to put Sheldon away, we are just going to have to bide our time, watch each other's backs, watch Pony like a hawk, and try to continue living the best way we can. Okay, Sodapop? You wanted to know what I know... there you go. That's it." He turned his attention back to the field, watching Ponyboy.

A few minutes of our not saying anything went by. I cooled down, not sure if I was so willing to believe what Darry had said. I figured the person with the vendetta against Pony had something to do with _track,_ considering all this started up when track season started. My brother is a fast runner, and being put up a grade gave him an advantage in size against the other athletes. There were a lot of things at stake in athletics... the coveted scholarships just one of them.

The soc's didn't like us, and it was possible one of them borrowed the car from Sheldon's dad that day, hoping to not get caught. I just couldn't believe a parent would be willing to do this, even a Soc dad.

The track officials had set up the hurdles, and I noticed Pony was standing, arms crossed, searching the area. I thought he was looking for us, but then I saw _her_.

"Hey, check it out. His lady friend is gonna take a shot at the jumps. This aught to be good." I said, grinning.

"Hurdles, Soda, they're called hurdles." Darry sounded frustrated, but I was back to having a blast. I'd wait to believe Darry when there was more proof.

I recognized the orange jersey and that brunette hair, pulled up in that same ponytail. Glancing at the sidelines, Pony was looking at her too. They all lined up and the starter's pistol went off, and I swear it looked like some weird scene from the road runner on that Saturday morning cartoon show. That gal took off and I never saw her feet actually touch the ground. She came in second, though... still good enough for state finals, but I could tell she was disappointed. She had that same _'don't even talk to me,_' look Pony gets when he gets beat.

Suddenly she turned her head in Pony's direction, and from our vantage point, I could see him wave at her and give her a thumbs up. She waved back, but didn't look very happy, considering she did come in second place. Heck, if I came in last place after jumping over any one of those without whacking the family jewels, I'd still think I was the champion. Just thinking about it made me wince.

"You okay?" Darry asked me, looking at me as I unconsciously scrunched in .

"Yeah, just glad I didn't go out for that. It looks painful if you don't clear the bar."

Darry laughed. "Why do you think that's the one thing in track Pony won't even try?"

"Smart kid," I said.

"Yes indeed."

XXX

Back in Tulsa, the man sat at his kitchen table, cleaning his rifle. He had served a short stint in the Marines, and his training would at last pay off. He could disassemble and reassemble his weapon in the dark if he had to. They had given him a bad conduct discharge after he had been in only two years - he'd gotten into it with his Staff Sergent - over alcohol consumption during working hours - no less.

A fight ensued, and although he got in the last punch, the Staff Sergent had the last laugh when he filed charges against him for disorderly conduct, conduct unbecoming, assault on a senior non-commissioned officer, and a few other things that sounded good on paper. They sent him to the brig for a month, took away half his money, and then discharged him. He did manage to save one souvenier for his troubles, his weapon. It had been issued to him, and he had intended to keep it.

The military police were furious when it couldn't be located in the inventory of his possessions before he was sent to the brig to start his time, and he simply shrugged and said he must have lost it when he was drunk one night. He didn't care, they had already taken his pay and were sending him to do time, what more could they do? So the weapon was stored in his fathers house- without his fathers knowledge- hidden in the attic for a while until his release from service. Eventually, he returned to get it. The military had too many other issues to deal with than an old lost weapon, and the matter was forgotten.

After the service, it took a while for him to get a job again, but he managed. Then he met a girl, dated her two months before she got herself knocked up, and then had to marry her. The realities of life came crashing down, and his party days were done. Now his kid was dead, and he was still stuck with her.

"Robert, what are you doing with that thing?" the woman asked.

"That 'thing' is my rifle, and I'm cleaning it. Go mind your business, woman." He didn't even turn to look at her.

"_Please _tell me you aren't planning to go hunting this weekend? The grass needs to be tended and the .."

"Look, I work all week, and if I want to go hunting, then I damn well will. You want the grass mowed so badly, do it yourself. I have plans. Might do you good to sweat a little, as fat as you're getting. Now go on, don't pester me, either."

She didn't have the strength in her for this fight. She knew he'd go hunting... out of season too - for what ever he wanted to hunt for. Neither her pleas nor hunting season limitations had ever stopped him before. She didn't really care either, but her concerns were for that boy. She hoped he was leaving him alone now. Robert had been coming home at his usual time again, and the amount of cops out randomly patrolling her neighborhood had finally gone down. It unnerved her. She was sucked into this loveless and lifeless marriage, every day being more dreary than the one before it.

She headed back to her room, passing Bobby's closed door on the way. In the shadow of the hallway, she stopped, and leaned against the cold wood of his door. She pressed her ear against it, closing her eyes, wishing she could hear the sounds of her boy, giggling with his toy soldiers and airplanes again. She lived with her thoughts in the past. She carefully opened the door, looking in. The room was still as he had left it that night; when he went to the movies with Sherry. Nothing had changed, as if time had stood still. For her, it had.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	13. Deceptions

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 13

**Deceptions**

XXX

"Man, what happened to this kid?" The man behind the green surgical mask asked out loud, the question directed to no one in particular, but open to anyone willing to answer.

"All I got was he was running at the state track competition. The news reports said someone was shooting at the governor and unfortunately, this kid took the hit. Maybe it was a ricochet bullet?" pondered the anesthesiologist.

"Or a stray bullet?" added the circulating nurse.

"How bad is it, Jeff?" asked the surgical technician.

"I dunno yet. Too much blood in the way. Poor kid." Jeff Davidson looked over the green sheet for a moment at the boys face, eyes taped shut and a breathing tube going down into his lungs. "He doesn't look any older than my own son. Do we have any identification on him yet? Suction."

The assisting surgeon sucked out the pooling blood from the wound while Dr. Davidson worked to control the bleeding. Once that was done, he could start the repair work.

"No. For now, he's just a John Doe. The family should be here soon."

"Blood pressure is low, Jeff." warned the anesthesiologist.

"Rapid infuse another unit of blood. Jesus, this kid is leaking it out as fast as we can put it in. Ah hah! Found it. Suture." Dr. Davidson had found the torn blood vessel causing most of the trouble, and was stitching it as fast as he could.

"I've lost his pulse." The anesthesiologist said, grabbing the ambu bag and taking the boy off the breathing machine.

"Damn! Carol, start compressions!" Dr. Davidson called out. The nurse pulled off the sterile gown covering the boys chest and started in, pushing down and releasing in a synchronized rhythm.

The circulating nurse pushed the button on the wall indicating to the main desk the immediate need for an extra set of hands, while the anesthesiologist bagged with one hand and popped open the box of drugs used for this situation with the other.

"Need help?" called someone from the doorway, and Dr. Davidson looked up.

"Yeah. Take over for Carol. Mike, you got a pulse back?"

Carol got out of the way while the newcomer in blue took over compressions.

The anesthesiologist felt the boys neck, and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Damn it! Come on, kid, fight!" He finished suturing the torn vessel and searched for any other causes of immediate blood loss. He'd worry about the repair job later, first he had to plug the holes from where the blood was leaking if there was any hope of restoring life. "How much epinephrine have we given?"

"One, so far. He'll be due for the second one in a minute." The anesthesiologist said, holding the medicine in the syringe at the ready.

"Give it now!" Dr. Davidson ordered. The liquid medicine was infused into the boys arm by way of the intravenous line, and was circulated by the newcomer still pounding on the boys chest, compressing the heart in a fast but steady rhythm.

"Hold on, I got something." said the anesthesiologist after a while, feeling the boys neck. "Thready, but present." He looked right at Jeff's eyes, a look of hope being the only thing you could see besides the mask.

"Blood pressure?" The assisting surgeon asked. The circulating nurse checked it, and rattled off the numbers.

"Better," Dr. Davidson said, taking a deep breath. "Let me know if it drops again."

Mike nodded, putting away the ambu bag and returning the boy back to the breathing machine. He peeled the tape off one of the boys eyes and opened the lid. He shined a pen light at the pupil and watched the reaction against the green iris.

"How long was he without a heartbeat?" he asked the circulating nurse while Jeff went back to work, repairing the damage the bullet caused. Time plays funny tricks during a code. What seems like seconds can take minutes, and what seems like minutes can quickly turn into an hour. Only the circulating nurse is in charge of keeping up with time. No one else even wears a watch into the operating room.

"Eight minutes," she said. Mike groaned, gently closing the eyelid and replacing the tape.

"How is it?" Jeff Davidson asked, glancing over the newly placed sheet covering the boys chest, which was partially blocking the anesthesiologists view of the surgeon.

"Sluggish. Don't know how much brain function he lost."

"I hope this kid has an angel in heaven looking out for him, cause he's gonna need it." Jeff said, as he continued cutting, suturing and repairing the boys wounds.

XXX

Two Weeks Ago:

Two-Bit was looking at the newest hardware adorning the mantle, Pony's four trophies. He's come in first in three of the heats he was in, but once again, that relay eluded his streak of four first place finishes.

"So who dropped it this time?" Two-Bit asked, remembering last years disqualification.

"Jamestown," Pony said, tossing the apple in the air and catching it over and over again from where he slouched on the sofa. "But he didn't drop it, just had a late start out of the blocks, which put us behind from the start. Still came in third place."

I looked at him, knowing by the tone in his voice that a third place finish in the relay was as good as a last place finish.

"Anything happen around here while we were gone?" I asked the guys in the house. Two-Bit shook his head, while Steve and Soda were busy looking at the pictures I'd taken of the tournament. They were in the kitchen, away from the group, but I heard the choked back chuckles coming from them and had an idea what they were looking at.

"Hey, kid... you uh, pick up another prize while you were there?" Steve was looking at Pony, who caught the apple and looked at him, a confused look on his face. He hadn't seen the pictures I had taken from the balcony yet. I only got the processed film back this afternoon.

Two-Bit found the humor at Pony's expense worth a trip across the room, and he was soon looking at the photographs too. Pretty soon, he was letting out a low laugh and looking at Ponyboy who still had that look of confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about, Steve?" he asked, finally getting off the couch.

"Well, damn, Ponyboy. We sent you out to a track meet. If I had known these were the prizes they awarded the winners, I'd have gone out for sports too!" He held out the best of the pictures, of Pony clearly dancing with the young lady in the red shirt, a smile on his face. My camera may be old and the focus bad at times, but it still can get some good shots. I would have tried to get one of him in the pool, but it was just too dark out.

"Where did you get this?" he snatched the picture out of Two-Bit's hand and looked at it up close. His green eyes blazed between me and Soda, not knowing which of us to blame.

"Now hold on, Ponyboy. Ain't nothing wrong in my taking a few shots of you innocently dancing with that young lady." I told him as I reached for the picture. His lightening fast reflexes moved the picture out of my reach before I could grasp it. His eyes were smoldering. I don't think it mattered to him that I outweighed him, stood several inches taller than he did or could bench press him if I had to, he looked like he was ready to take me on right then and there. He was royally pissed!

"You_ told_ me to go down there and mingle. So I did. And _this _is what you do? _Spy_ on me? What the hell?"

"Now, Pony...in all fairness, Darry never said to go jump in the pool with her!" Soda chimed in, safely out of Pony's reach. However, the result was like adding gasoline to a campfire.

"_He_ did_ what?_"

"Were they dressed?"

"Did you get any pictures of _that_?"

"Did you at least get her phone number?"

The guys were beside themselves with delight, while Pony looked like he was gonna slug someone, _anyone._

"Back it down a few notches, guys," I commanded.

Too late, Two-Bit was laughing hysterically at the way Pony was reacting, and Pony pulled back and landed one, right in his midsection. Two-Bit wasn't expecting it, and the effect left Two-Bit gasping for breath while Pony nearly unhinged the door storming out. In three seconds he was around the block, not running - but walking with a_ stop me and you'll be sorry_ look on him.

"You okay, Two-Bit?" I asked. He was rubbing his stomach where Pony's punch had landed, but still had a smile on his face.

"Yeah, I'll live. That little brother of yours sure can pack a punch. He keeps eating his spinach, and soon that's gonna really hurt.

"Looks like it really hurts now, Two-Bit," said Steve dryly.

"Soda, go find him. And for everyone's sake, don't rub these in." I held up the rest of the pictures, and he smiled and nodded. He was out the door headed in the direction Pony took off in just moments before.

"I take it - he and this gal really hit it off?" Two-Bit asked, looking through the photographs again while reaching into the fridge for a drink.

"That bit about the pool... what happened?" Steve perched himself on the counter, wanting details. Two-Bit popped the top off his beer and leaned back too.

"Yeah, he and the girl went for a dip in the pool, she was dressed in her clothes, he was in his cut up jeans. It was all innocent.. at least until the end... and even I don't know what happened. Soda and I were up in the room, he'd been watching them all afternoon from the balcony, with their chaperone's not too far away either. I guess things got a little too close for the chaperone's comfort, and pulled them both out of the pool. Next thing I knew, Coach Devers was hand delivering Pony to me in our room."

"No shit? What did he say?" Two-Bit asked, following my every word.

"Coach said nothing, Pony said nothing. As far as I know, Soda also doesn't know what happened in the pool."

"But, you said Soda had been watching him. What did he miss besides their conversation?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure how to say what I really didn't know. "There was apparently a close encounter of some sort when they took a dive under the water, just before the coaches pulled the two of them out."

Steve and Two-Bit gave each other a high five, and laughed. Steve was looking at the pictures again, Two-Bit just shaking his head.

"Man, my sis is gonna be so heartbroken."

"So is he gonna see her again?" Steve asked.

"More importantly, are _we_ gonna see the two of them together any time soon?"

"Oh please, guys? I ain't got time for some silly romance." They just looked at me, waiting. I sighed. "She made it to the State finals in two weeks. She has a good running game. Of course, Pony qualified too, so yes... the chances that they will see each other again... _as friends_.... is very possible. Do me a favor though... don't harass him. He needs to focus on his running, not on this girl. Read me? Scouts are sure to be there, and I don't need him getting sidetracked."

"Hey, we wouldn't do anything to screw up the kids future, Darry, but you have to admit... Pony on the dating scene is really, you know, _out _there. How did this even happen?" Two-Bit asked.

I looked at them both, shaking my head and smirking some. How _did_ this happen? "I have no idea. I sent him down for dinner at his coach's insistence at four in the afternoon, and his coach brings him back up a quarter after nine, dripping wet and shirtless."

"Darry, my friend, I don't envy you this problem!"

"Thanks, Steve. Now, you two get out of here before Soda drags Pony home. Next time, he might take a swing at you," I pointed at Steve, who smirked.

"Doubt it. I'd hit back."

"Aww... come on, Stevie boy, you can't go hitting Ponyboy. He's our last great hope! Lets get on out of here, discuss this issue while all these teenage hormones in the air settle down." Two-Bit had some crazy grin on his face, while Steve looked at him with disgust. Together, they finally left.

I watched them leave the house, hoping that they would leave Pony alone. I also knew Two-Bit was right, and I was going to have to set Pony down and give him not only The Talk... not that he didn't already know the in's and out's of how a girl gets in trouble and, more importantly, what the guy can do to make sure it ain't his; but set the limits of what I expect from him if he is gonna start dating. I picked up the pictures the guys left on the table, looking at the grainy shots I had taken. For once in his life, he didn't have that apprehensive look on his face. He was just a teenager out having fun. I didn't want to wreck it for him. I put the photo's away, and decided I would wait until after the State Championship in two weeks to bring all that up.

_Hormones_, I thought. _Why now_?

XXX

"Pony, wait up!" I called to his disappearing form. He looked over his shoulder at me, a scowl clearly etched on his face. I had to jog some to catch him. "Come on, Pone, don't be this way. Darry and I were only having a little fun, you can take our teasing... can't you?"

He quietly brooded about it.

"Sure, I can take a joke. I can even take being the _butt _of the joke to you and Darry, but not when you bring in Steve and Two-Bit on it. Why were you even watching me? It ain't like I was doing anything with her.. just dancing."

He had his fists on his hips, and a pained look on his face. I briefly wondered what he would look like if we had caught him actually doing something _more_.

I grinned at him, watching him give me a defeated look and drop his glance at the sidewalk. My grin always calmed him down. "Kid, it ain't what you were _doing_, it was who you were doing it _with _that took us by surprise_._ None of us have ever seen you out _dancing_ before, even at school dances. You usually just walk around and hang out. It was good to see you finally out having fun, something we both wanted to see."

"Yeah, and the guys will twist it into something sick and sordid, and you know it. Hell, Soda... you guys tell me to go out and meet girls, and when I actually do find one that seems interesting and real, you all turn it against me. All we did was dance and talk... that's it. It wasn't front page news."

"And go for a swim, don't forget that. And no ones 'turned against you', either. Darry teased me when I started dating, now it's your turn."

I knew I had turned red at the mere mention of the pool. _"I ain't dating_, Soda, I just went dancing... and, yes, took a swim. So what?"

"You're the youngest, and all these changes for you are new for us to have no other choice but sit back and watch happen. But look, just answer me two questions," I started, but Pony turned on his heals and shook his head as he walked on down the sidewalk. "Aww, come on, Pone. Please! For me?"

He looked at me, a look of disgust on his face. "Fine, what?"

"Who's idea was it to go in the pool?"

"Hers," he said flatly without missing a beat.

I watched him closely for this next question. "What happened under the water that last time you and she dove?"

He's green eyes looked right at me, and this time he wasn't smiling. "None of your business." He spun off again to continue walking away.

I smiled even more and caught his elbow, turning him to face me. He held that stubborn stance with a locked jaw, and I knew it was pointless to keep pressing for details.

"Okay, Pone. You can keep your secret. Whatever happened, it must have been good. Just, do me a favor?"

He looked up, "_Now_ what?"

"Put her out of your mind for now, and concentrate on your race coming up. After that, then we'll talk."

He gave me a tired grin and slightly nodded his head. By now, I had steered him around the block and our house was ahead of us once more. I hoped Darry had given the guys the boot out the door, because I knew how quickly his feelings got hurt. Girls were new territory for him. And we would need to have a lot of long talks in the future; him, me and Darry together.

XXX

"How can I help you?" The aide in the office asked the man in the suit.

"Good afternoon!" the smiling man said. "I was wondering where I could find a recent copy of the school newspaper?"

The man's warm smile put the woman at ease. The school had put up on the marque out front about the track teams many awards at the regional conference, and several local citizens had come in to get a copy of the school paper. "I happen to have one right here," she reached under the counter and pulled one from the stack. "Here you go, free of charge. We're all so proud of our students, those kids have really worked hard to achieve this measure of success. Coach Devers and Coach Olsen have worked with those kids since the first of the year. They all have talent!"

"Yes, they do. Thank you very kindly for the paper. I'd better be going now, thanks again!"

"Yes, sir. Have a wonderful day!"

The man walked to his gray Chevy and got inside, locked the door and drove off... mindful of the speed limits this time. He waited until he was several miles away before pulling over and scanning the paper. There on page one was a picture of his target running across the finish line of one of his races, and below that picture and the article about the various events, was another picture of him and his teammates holding their trophies. The image burned his fury, but he kept scanning for what was important. Then he saw it.

"_State Competition track meet will be held in Oklahoma City at the Athletic Coliseum on May 14, starting at 9:00 and lasting until approximately 3:00. The Governor is expected to attend, and seating is limited. Get your tickets early! Hope to see you there!"_

Now he had the information he needed. He folded the paper and put it in the glove box, then headed home once more.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	14. Phone Calls

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 14

**Phone Calls**

XXX

The crowd of people in the waiting room was large. The kid's coach was here, along with the rest of our school's track team. Athletes from other schools had shown up, too. People were milling around, talking in hushed voices. Some of the girl athletes were in a corner, bawling. Didn't know why, the kid had no interest in them. The gal he was interested in hadn't shown up... but I figured she would at some point. Reporters, thankfully, were_ not _here. I was glad for that, because I really wasn't looking forward to spending the night in the local jail for slugging anyone wanting to bother either Darry or Sodapop with questions and a camera.

Darry and Soda were barely holding it together... well, Soda was piecing it _back_ together with Darry's help. The nurse took them both to a private room a while ago, just before the throngs of people started to show up. Soda just wasn't taking Pony's death real well... not that I expected him to. Hell, I had bawled some too, but stopped that shit fast. I wouldn't let it out, not here in the open... even though I had a smothering tightness in my chest that screamed to break. That kid had so much going for him – smart, athletic, talented. All the things none of the rest of us were. He'd have gone far, if only he could have escaped that bullet. Damn! I felt the tears falling from my eyes again, and for the third time, I got up and headed to the mens room to get myself together.

"You okay, Steve?" Two-Bit asked as I got up. He had been sniffling and wiping his own eyes in silence for the last ten minutes too.

"Fuckin fine as wine, Two-Bit. Be right back," was all I could say. I didn't even recognize my own voice. That's okay, his was different too.

XXX

Man, I needed a beer. No, something stronger. I can't believe he's gone. I mean..._ gone_! Johnny, Dally... now Pony? The world just wasn't right. No family should lose this much. Those Curtis boys... they win the award for the most losses. And they _so _didn't deserve it. Their parents loved them boys with every ounce of their being, and they were taken in the blink of an eye. Then Johnny and Dally … both in one night... and both meant the world to Pony. Gone. And the poor kid saw them die! Now, he's been killed too. Unfair. So _damn _unfair. I wiped my eyes. The door to the room Darry and Soda were taken to opened, and at last they came out, heading back to our small section of seats. At least the rest of Pony's school chums were giving us lots of space, that or we scared them. Course, the way we look right now, I don't think we could scare a "boo" out of a ghost. Ghosts.. shit. I pressed the sides of my nose, hoping that would stop my blubbering. It was time to be strong again. Darry and Soda needed us to be.

"You okay, Soda?" I asked. He was quiet, stony faced, but walking under his own power. Darry was red eyed; I knew he had been crying too.

Soda looked at me, and nodded his head slightly.

"The nurse gave him something to calm him down. He's still with it, just... well... leave him alone. Where did all these people come from?" Darry looked around as he sat down.

"They just showed up, with more coming every few minutes."

Steve came out of the bathroom again, and made his way back to us. He sat next to Soda, patting his knee once or twice before returning to chew on a hangnail. Down the other hall, past the STOP, AUTHORIZED PERSONELL IN O.R. ATTIRE ONLY sign, went a gurney from a room surrounded by a bunch of people, and headed away from us. I had a feeling the kid's body was on that table, it was the same room that had the blue light over it, the same room where those running staff members bolted to over an hour ago. I pinched my nose harder, feeling a tightness suddenly well up in my chest. Part of me wanted to run down there and grab him off that table and hold him. They'd had him long enough, and it wouldn't hurt him anyway. But I sat still, pinching back the tears. I watched as they turned down a hallway further away, and disappeared from view. Coming toward us was a man in clean green scrubs who was putting on his starched crisp white coat.

He came into the waiting room and called out, "Curtis Family?" The room, filled with people chatting in low voices, went silent in that second. Darry stood up then slightly raised his hand. The doctor came over to us, and gave a hesitant smile.

"Lets go to the conference room, there are too many people here."

Private rooms never give good information. Then again, we already knew anyway. The four of us got up and we followed the man to the same room Darry and Soda had previously been in. He shut it behind me, and motioned for us to sit down. Christ, Doc, just say it already!

XXX

"How are you related to Mr. Curtis?" the doctor asked us once the door was closed.

That sounded weird, my youngest brother being called "Mister." In my mind, Ponyboy was too young to be called "mister." That was a title for someone with age, with responsibilities. Pony was just a kid.

"He's my youngest brother, this is Soda; our middle brother. These are our friends... and they can stay and hear what you have to say. They're as close as family to us. Before you ask, our parents are dead, and I have legal custody. Now... Ponyboy?"

I just wanted him to say it... say it and get it over with so I can have him sent home. I just wanted to get _out _of Oklahoma City... not that _this_ would ever be behind me. I would live with the rest of my life stopped at this moment. I can't believe I have to bury yet another member of my family. I was only 21, for God's sake.

"The bullet tore into his intestine and hit a large vessel in his abdomen. In addition to the seven inches of intestine I had to remove, he suffered quite a bit of blood loss, and it caused his heart to stop during surgery. I was able to repair the damage and get his heart restarted, but for now I am keeping him sedated through the night."

Oh my God. Oh God, oh God, oh God! He wasn't dead! They managed to work a miracle, and he was still alive. I took a small step back and literally tripped into the chair behind me, sitting down hard. I felt something on my hand, and looked to see Soda's hand reaching across the table, his fingers worming their way into my grip. I took them, held them; hoping he understood that I knew what he was trying to say, and that I felt the same.

"So he's alive?" Steve asked, interrupting the doctor. It was still sinking in for everyone. I was still too stunned to speak.

"Yes, he's alive. It's going to be touch and go for the next day or so, but if he manages to maintain his blood pressure and put out fluids, I think he will survive the injury to his abdomen. There are other complications, though - I'm sorry to have to say."

"What complications?" Soda asked, now fighting the medicine in his system.

"He was without a heartbeat for about eight minutes. A possibility for brain damage exists after six minutes. However, he's young and in otherwise great health; kids just seem to bounce back from this type of insult to their bodies better than adults, so he still has a chance. We really won't know until he wakes up."

"What about the paralysis?" I asked the doc. He looked at me, a question in his eyes. "Pony said he couldn't feel his feet just before he passed out. Is he paralyzed?"

"Mr. Curtis, I don't know why he would say that. I saw no evidence of spinal cord injury either outside of him or from the inside. When he wakes up, then we'll learn more."

"When will he wake up?" Two-Bit asked.

"Like I said, I'm going to keep him sedated through the night, and tomorrow I'll taper off the sedation and allow him to wake up. Maybe by noon, he'll be awake enough to speak to us. That's still iffy, so no guarantees. Of course, he's had a rough afternoon, and I make no promises about his prognosis. He still has to make it through the night. He's still not out of the woods."

"Can we sit with him?" Soda asked. I'd love to see someone try to stop him. Even in his medically aided calm haze, I doubt anyone would stop Sodapop Curtis from getting to our brother's side.

"Of course. He's in intensive care right now. As long as there's no trouble, I'll place an order in the chart allowing you four to stay."

I found strength again, and stood up on what I found were shaky legs. "Thank you, Doctor....?" I wasn't even sure of his name.

"Davidson. Jeff Davidson. I'll have the nurse come here to get you in a few minutes to take you to Mr. Curtis's room. Or, you can go back to the waiting room, it's your choice. There aren't any other surgical cases going on now, so you can stay here if you wish. If you have any questions, let the nurse know... she can get in touch with me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on my other patients."

The doc left the room, and I sat back down, feeling like - while one weight was lifted, another was pressing down. There was the concern of brain damage and paralysis to contend with. I wasn't sure how to handle that. I knew Pony wouldn't want to live if he couldn't enjoy the things he liked in life.. his books, his drawings. Getting out to the movies. Trapped in his mind, unable to speak. Maybe unable to comprehend. Was this worse than death? A living hell?

XXX

_Eight Days Ago:_

"Pony, how are you doing in your classes? Don't think I've forgotten you still have school to finish. The year ain't up."

"Yeah, I know, Darry. I know I've got an 'A' in English, math is on the fence for either a high 'B' or low 'A', and history is a 'B+'. I messed up with some of the events of World War One. Don't worry, I heard history repeats itself anyway... I'll get it right the next time around!"

He laughed, even Soda grinned at that one. Pony had been in a good mood ever since returning from Regionals, and I doubted his successes on the field had anything to do with it. He'd gotten calls from that young lady he'd met there twice now, usually around eight at night. It was funny to watch him chatting on the phone, talking - from the little I'd overheard – about running and the competition coming up. _Safe_ conversation, at least. But he'd slouch all over my armchair, one of his legs dangling over the armrest of the chair, the other splayed off the front, with him leaning back against the other chair's armrest. _How_ that was comfortable, I had no idea. Looked like it would kill my back.

"Very funny. You have dishes tonight, don't forget. No excuses."

"Yeah, okay." His scowl was short lived.

Later, as Pony was filling the sink with a mountain of bubbles, the phone rang again. I looked at Soda from my side of the couch, and he looked back at me, rolling his eyes as Pony bellowed from the kitchen, "I got it!" and appeared in the living room drying his hands on a towel. Neither Soda or I even attempt to answer the phone anymore.

"Hello?" he said, as he scrunched into the chair. However, he sat bolt upright, and had a serious look in his face. Reactions that said I needed to pay attention to him. He stared at the phone, then wordlessly hung the receiver up.

"Pone, who was it?" I asked. He didn't say anything for a moment, then got up to go back to the kitchen.

"No one, just a prank call."

"Well, what did they say?" Soda asked, turning the volume down on the TV and following him into the kitchen.

"Nothing. Made no sense anyway. Forget it."

"No, we won't forget it. Now, what did the person on the phone say?" I asked a tad rougher.

Pony's shoulders shrugged, then he resumed washing the dishes. "Said to be careful, that she didn't know what he was capable of. Then she hung up. Probably some drunk lady friend of Two-Bit's that he gave our number to. I dunno." He rinsed off the plate and reached into the hot soapy water for something else. I crossed the kitchen and turned him to me.

"Right now, before you forget a single word, or noises in the background of that call... write it down. Everything she said, word for word. No matter how stupid it sounds. Do it. Now." I handed him back the towel to dry his hands on, while Soda scrounged up some paper and a pen. Pony looked at me, but I turned his head like a corkscrew back to the paper, and pointed with my finger pounding the table, "write!"

He did. It was the same thing he said out loud, that "she didn't know what he was capable of." I wondered who "she" was, and why she couldn't stop "him."

"Are you gonna call the cops again, Darry? Over a two second phone call?" Pony asked.

Soda looked at me, wanting to know the same thing. "No, but I am going to keep this. You sure there wasn't anything else she said, maybe anything you heard in the background?_ Think_, Pony. It's important."

"No, Darry. Nothing. I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it, anyway."

The phone rang again, and I was at it in two strides.

"Who the hell is this?" I boomed into the receiver, tired of this catch -me- if- you-can nonsense Sheldon was playing. Pony didn't know it was Sheldon, and Soda still refused to believe it. The guys were totally in the dark about it still. I couldn't take someone threatening my brothers. _Coward_. He's supposed to be an adult - he needs to come fight me like a man, not pick on my kid brother.

"Umm, Megan," the voice on the other end said. I deflated, and looked at Pony, still sitting at the table with Soda still standing by him.

"Sorry, Megan. I thought it was someone else. Didn't mean to scream. Hold on, I'll get Ponyboy." I held out the phone to him, and he came over, taking it. Soda followed me into the kitchen.

"What do you think this means, Dar?" he asked.

"Dunno. Just... hell, Soda, I don't know." I reached into the sink, finishing the last few dishes Pony had to do and let the water out.

"We'll keep him safe, Darry. Don't worry," he said, taking the sponge from me to wipe down the counters. I leaned back, looking at Pony from the kitchen, this time sitting on the chair but bent over, playing with his shoelaces. I wasn't sure how to keep him safe from something I couldn't see. How could any of us?

XXX

"Wait a minute, Steve, why are you off the schedule?" I yelled over as I noticed the marks on the schedule sitting by the table. I was taking a break from Mr. Carter's car... his brakes were pissing me off.

"What, Soda?" Steve called from beneath the other car at the far end of the service bay.

"The schedule... the fourteenth? I thought you were going to work that day."

"Ain't that the kids race day?" he yelled back. I smiled.

"Yeah, but you've never gone to his races willingly before. Why now?"

"Me and Two-Bit decided to go and split the cost."

I almost spewed my drink, choking back a laugh. "You're kidding!" I walked over to him, kicking his shoe as he lay on the low roller working. He rolled out and looked up.

"You and Two-Bit? Split the cost? With_ what_ -he ain't got no job, remember? And split a room? This has to be good. Come on.. what's up?"

"Something wrong that we want to watch the kid beat the rest of Oklahoma in running?" he asked all defensive like.

"No, but this sudden interest ain't you. What's the real reason? Don't feed me bull, either."

He grinned. "Okay, Two-Bit wants to go check out this girl the kids into, and I gotta admit, I'm slightly curious to see what type of gal would make Pony go jump into a pool. That honest enough for you?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Her school may not even be staying at the same hotel we are. There's going to be at least a thousand competitors there. She's just one."

"Soda, don't play stupid, it don't suit you." Steve said, thwacking his greasy rag at me.

"Did you even make reservations? We leave tomorrow, you know there wont be any rooms left. And I don't think Darry would be too thrilled to have the five of us staying in one room. He likes his space."

"Yeah, yeah, we know. We managed to get a room at the same place you guys are at. Darry gave us the phone number of the registration desk a week ago. It's all set up. We're even going in my car... not wanting to cramp you three up or nothing."

"Not trusting Two-Bit's car?" I grinned.

"Hell, no. I want to get there alive. That piece of crap he drives needs to meet the wrecking ball. It's beyond even our help."

I laughed, knowing Steve was right. But, Two-Bit ain't one to give up on a car, or a girl. Probably why he had oil all over his driveway and too many girls to remember their names. I finished my drink and went back the brakes. I secretly wondered what the guys were setting Pony up for.

XXX

The woman sat in her room, listening to the sounds of her husband packing. He was going somewhere, and it was obvious he wasn't taking her. Not that she wanted to go, this trip he was taking seemed out of nature for him. Out of character. He'd been fixated on that rifle of his for weeks, cleaning it every night, checking the scope attached to the barrel. It gave her chills. He wouldn't talk to her. The bruise on her shoulder was still tender where he'd pushed her into the cabinet from when she'd tried to talk to him last week. He had a glaze over his eyes. Something was going to happen. She'd warned them twice already, that was enough.

Suddenly, she felt something cold on her face, and reached up to brush it away. It was wet, and made her pause. A tear. She hadn't cried since they closed the casket on Bobby. This boy …. it bothered her this much. She swallowed and put it out of her mind. If she started thinking of this boy, then she would start to think of Bobby. She didn't want to feel that pain. She wanted to feel empty. It was all she could cope with. It was what she could handle.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	15. Calm Before The Storm

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 15

**Calm Before The Storm**

XXX

"Afternoon, sir, how may I help you?"

"Checking in... Curtis, Darrel Curtis."

The man checked his ledger, then checked it off. Darry handed over the money... earned from both of us working overtime as well as Darry giving up three nights week for the last month to put in extra hours at the warehouse. "Yes sir, room 417, elevators are around the corner. Oh, Mr. Curtis... do you by chance have a 'Ponyboy Curtis' in your party?"

That made me look up. I watched Darry as he said we did, and the man turned and handed Darry an envelope with Pony's name written on it.

"Thank you. Who left it, if you could tell me."

"One of the other athletes did. Her family checked in a few hours ago. Sorry, that's all I remember, we've been a bit busy with the large crowds coming in." he smiled pleasantly and Darry folded the envelope and slid it in his back pocket. He reached down, grabbed his bag, then headed off toward the lounge.

"What, ain't you gonna open it?" I asked as I followed him.

"No, I'm not. We both know who it's from."

He found some seats next to the windows where we could see the arriving vehicles, pulled out a chair and sat down. It was killing me. "Darry! You can't be serious. You really _aren't _going to open it, are you?"

"Soda, Pony is going to need to trust us. You really think opening this is going to help him do that?"

I slumped down in the seat next to him, grumbling. Darry and his logic. I knew he was right, though.

We were not only waiting for Pony's team bus to pull in, we were also waiting for the guys to catch up. Steve had been trying to egg Darry on after we got off the freeway, but only ended up getting a ticket for his trouble. He should have known Darry doesn't fall for that racing stuff. We like to go watch the races, sure; but being in one on a busy city street is a different matter. Tickets cost money, one thing Darry and I ain't got to spare. Guess I'll be seeing Steve at the DX a few extra hours a week. It wasn't long before I saw Steve's car pulling in.

"Well, howdy, boys! I see you guys are all checked in. Miss us?" Two-Bit came strolling over and sat down, his gym bag dropped carelessly on the floor by him.

"How's Steve?" Darry asked.

"Eww. Now, that's a toughie. He's been in a rotten mood these last few miles. Seems he was going a tad fast for the local posted limitations."

"He should know better than to speed in a town hosting a few thousand people for the next few days."

Darry shook his head.

I looked over, Steve was coming in to join us.

"How's it going, Speedy Gonzales?" I asked. Steve just took a swing at me, unfortunately connecting with my bicep. I could tell by how hard he hit that he really was mad. He'd get over it. He glared at me then went to check in, then rejoined us a while later.

"We're in room 422. That's the closest we could get to you guys, check- in man said you were in 417. The place is packed. We ready to go up?" Steve asked. Looking around, the lobby was crammed with wall to wall kids sporting jerseys of every color imaginable, with a few adults and parents sprinkled in.

"You guys can. Pony's bus should be here soon. I told his coach I would be here to get him, otherwise he has to stay in the rooms with his team." Darry said, leaning back.

I agreed with Darry. "Nah, I'm gonna wait too. We'll find you later for dinner if you want to head up now."

"Sounds like a plan. Two-Bit, here's your key. Don't forget.. I expect you to live up to your word about paying me back."

"What? Me forget a promise? Never! I'll get you the dough. Don't worry." Two-Bit said, pocketing the key. He grabbed his bag and followed Steve to the elevators. I'd love to know who he's gonna con out of the money to repay Steve. Steve won't forget a penny owed him, by anyone - friend or not.

Just then, the familiar teal and gold activity bus from Pony's school pulled up, and students started hopping off. "They're here," I told Darry, and he turned to look too. Ponyboy was one of the last ones off, and followed the group inside. He knew we'd be in the lounge and came over, Darry waving to the coach indicating we had him. Coach nodded and off we went to the elevators.

"Any problems on the bus, Pony?" Darry asked.

"Nope. Boring. I really hope coach will let me ride home with you guys. This bus riding requirement has gotten old."

"It's an insurance thing, that's all," Darry explained. "Anything that happens to you while you're on school trips is covered by the school. That's why I don't ask the coach to take you off the bus. It's the whole package... or none of it. Simple as that."

"Besides, you've suffered worse before. And you can't lounge out in the truck like you can on the bus."

"What's going to happen to me? There are enough chaperone's about that it's amazing we can go to the bathroom by ourselves. It's crazy!"

Darry and I looked at each other. Too many hours logged on the bus. Kid needed to relax some. That reminded me. "Pony, you got a message left at the desk. Darry's got it."

He pulled it out of his back pocket as we headed to our room. Once inside, Pony dropped his bag and dove across the bed, tearing open the envelope. He read the slip of paper, then grabbed the phone.

"May I speak with Megan, please?.... Hey, we're up in 417.... You going to the 'Meet and Greet' later too?.... I know, but my coach makes it mandatory that we show up..... There's an arcade next door, want to meet up for a while? That should kill an hour or two... Oh. Yeah, I guess I can do that. Hold on.... _ Darry_?" he called out, obviously forgetting the three of us were in the same room together.

"I'm right here, Pony, no need to shout. What is it?"

"Um, can I go over to the arcade next door? There ain't no highways to cross.... just the parking lot and a small two- lane road that won't be a problem."

Darry just looked at him, then sighed. "It's poor taste to ask her out then ask me for permission. I guess so. You have to be back here no later than five, you read me, Ponyboy?"

Pony smiled and nodded. "Megan... yeah, no problem. I'll see you in a bit. Bye."

I pulled out my wallet and handed him some money. "Here, don't waste it... and don't go straying off. Have fun, see you back here by five!"

With that, he was out the door, nearly running into the guys coming in.

"Whoa kid! Where's the fire?" Two-Bit asked, but Pony didn't stop to answer.

The guys came in and looked at us.

"Megan alert." I said, and they ran back to the door.

"Told you the kid had it bad." Two-Bit ribbed Steve in the side.

It took a while, but I finally saw the two of them walking across the parking lot and called to the guys who joined me on the balcony. He knew we were watching, and the both of them turned to look up in the direction of our room. He pointed, she waved, then they turned and headed across the street, disappearing into the arcade.

"Shows over," Darry said, going back inside. I couldn't disagree more. I had a feeling it was only beginning.

XXX

I wasn't used to this... Megan's parents wanted to _meet_ me. They were in room 622, and I wasn't sure if I was the kind of boy they approved of their daughter hanging out with. My clothes weren't too good; I was wearing another pair of jeans that I cut the legs off of to turn into shorts, plus my light blue t-shirt that thankfully didn't have any stains on it. My hair was slicked back, no too much grease in it, but enough to still stand out. I found their room and knocked. A second later, the door opened.

"Hi, um... Megan here?" I asked. The guy standing in front of me was Darry's height, and pretty well built. Definitely not her dad.

"Mark, move it!" I heard her say to the guy in front of me. At least I had the right room.

"Mark" moved, and another man came over.

"So you must be Ponyboy. I'm Mr. Ornette, Megan's father. How are you, son?"

I shook his outstretched hand, hoping mine wasn't slick with sweat. This whole "meet the parents" thing had me for a loop. "Fine, thank you sir."

"Megan tells me you are an outstanding runner for your school. She mentioned this is your second time at State?"

"Yes sir, it is. Thank you." Okay... I had no clue what to say. 'Thank you' was all that kept popping into my head.

"How did you do last year?" he pressed for more, and Megan went to sit by a woman I assumed was her mother. She had curly hair, lighter than Megan's. I wondered what my own mother would have looked like now, how her hair would have been. All I had were old pictures to go by, and they were all black and white. Megan may not know it, but she was the luckiest girl alive... here in this room was her family. All of them, living and breathing, even when - as all teens do – we get into arguments with them. Still, they were here. Mine weren't, and never would be again.

"I'm sorry... my thoughts derailed. Track, last year. Yes sir... I placed third in the 200 meter relay. I didn't do well for my other heats, but I was new at this. I mean, I didn't know what to expect. Then. Sir."

"Well, better luck this year. So, you two are headed to the arcade for a while?"

"If that is okay with you and Mrs. Ornette." I said. I wanted to hear her mothers voice, see if it sounded anything like my mothers did. Although I knew her love for me never would, mom's voice was fading from my memory. I never have been able to tell that to Darry or Soda. There was nothing they could do to fix it anyway.

"I think that would be fine. Don't stay out too long, and be careful crossing the street. Megan, here's some money. Have fun, baby girl. I'll send Mark if you're not back by five. Keep that in mind."

"Ohhh dad!" She gave him a hug and I opened the door for her, then followed her out. We didn't speak until we were in the elevators, safely out of earshot of her family's prying ears and eyes.

"You're family seems pretty tuff."

"Well. In all honesty, my coach called my parents and told them about our swim... and dad has been on a rant about it ever since. What about your brothers? Were they upset?"

"Upset... no, not really. Turns out, they were spying on me the whole time. Matter of fact, I bet if you turned around, you would find them - probably all of them, out on the balcony watching us walking across the parking lot right now."

She turned, and I did too. And there they were, all four of them, watching.

"Where are they?"

There were people on many balconies, so I pointed them out. "Fourth level, sixth room across. See them, the four guys just standing there like idiots. That would be my brothers and our friends."

"Oh, yeah... green shirt on the tall one?"

"Yep."

She waved. I shook my head. The shy and quiet type was definitely not her. "Come on, lets go before Darry hauls out his camera again."

"Camera?"

"I'll explain it inside."

We crossed the street and went into the arcade, having so much fun, we almost forgot the time.

XXX

"Oh heck! Your father's gonna skin me!" I said as we crossed the road headed back to the hotel.

"No he won't. Stop worrying."

We raced back across the parking lot, getting to the front door at the same time. Too many cars around for us to really race, but that would be a competition I would like to have.

"Come on, let me get you back to your room." I said, and she just looked at me, raising one eye. Then I thought about how that sounded, and hit my own forehead with my palm. Idiot. "I mean, let me get you back to your parents...."

She laughed. "I know what you meant, Ponyboy! It's okay."

The elevator door opened and we went inside, being the only two occupants in there. The 'meet and greet' was starting in about thirty minutes, so I guess everyone was getting ready. The doors slid closed, I pushed the button for the sixth floor and the elevator gave that lurch that indicated it was on its way. That lurch put her off balance.. and I couldn't tell if it was an act or not, but she reached out and grabbed me to steady herself.

"You okay?" I asked, feeling the warmth of her hand on mine.

"Yeah, stupid elevator." she said, letting go and standing up. Silence ensued for a half second, then I thought of something. I was suddenly glad this hotel owned what had to be the slowest elevator in Oklahoma.

"Megan, quick, close your eyes." she did, and just before the doors opened on her floor, I bent over and gave her a quick kiss... like the one she gave me in the pool last time. Only this time, I didn't have to worry about sucking in water in surprise. Her lips were soft, warm. The door dinged, I pulled away, and the doors opened. She looked at me, smiling, with a touch of crimson on her cheeks. My own ears were hot. Wordlessly, I walked her to her room, knocked on her door and her father opened it.

"Well, glad to see you back. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, dad. Loads." she said to him, a faint redness still around her cheeks. "See you at the 'meet and greet' downstairs, Ponyboy?"

"Sure. I'll be down there in a while. Mr. Ornette, thank you for letting Megan go to the arcade. Sir."

"As long as you two had fun. See you later, son." he said as he closed the door.

Once back at my room, I had to knock as I still didn't have a key, and Soda opened it. "Well, at least he ain't sopping wet this time!" he called out to the gang. Everyone was laying back, lounging around and watching TV while playing a game of poker. The room was a wreck, and I wondered what type of fight happened. Considering the beaten conditions of the pillows, I imagined a pillow fight. Thank heavens nothing was broken... Darry and Soda would have to pay for it, and I was sure it wasn't be at a discounted rate, either. I grabbed my bag and looked for some other stuff to wear, then went to take a quick shower.

"That arcade any fun, Pone?" Darry asked as I went through my bag.

"Yup. Still have some money left over, I'll get it in a minute."

"Kid, you're just going down to eat and hang out. What are you getting all gussied up for? Ain't you athletes used to smelling like sweat anyway?" Steve asked. He was teasing me, as usual.

Soda threw his balled up socks at Steve. "Go shower, Pony. You're running out of time."

I closed the door, hearing the snickers behind it. Whatever. I would either have to endure it, or go bunk in with the rest of my team. No way I was going to do that. I stripped down and got under the spray, lathering up then rinsing down. I wanted to get downstairs as soon as I could. I was out in no time.

"Heck, kid, did you stop to dry off?" It was Two-Bit's turn. The fun just never lets up!

"Funny, but you know Coach will be upset if I don't show up."

"Yeah, you ain't fooling us. You ain't rushing just to make coach happy. We ever gonna meet this Megan?" Now it was Soda's turn. It just so happened, there was a knock on the door at the same time.

Darry opened it, and Megan stood there, dressed in dark knee shorts and a sapphire blue blouse. Her hair was french braided, her bangs laying in soft wisps over her forehead. She smelled nice, and I could tell she also had showered. In her hand was her orange jersey. No one spoke, which I thought was the funniest thing ever. No one had ever gotten them to shut up before, not like this.

"Daddy swore if I wasn't downstairs in three minutes, he was sending Mark up with a baseball bat. Thought I'd come over and introduce myself, seeing as how you guys were gaggling over the balcony. My name's Megan. Good evening, gentlemen."

"Evening to you too, Megan. I got to watch you run hurdles two weeks ago. You have a lot of talent, good luck tomorrow." At least Darry remembered some manners.

"Megan," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed while tying my shoes, "that's Darry, my oldest brother, there's Soda," I pointed with my chin as I introduced them, "my other older brother, the red head is Two-Bit, and the one with the permanent scowl on his face is Steve." I found my own jersey and stood up, dodging the wet towel Steve threw at me. "Let's go, before the rest remember they can talk and start in."

"Be back before nine, Ponyboy. We're gonna head over to the arcade for a while, if you need to get in the room, go to the front desk. Okay?" Darry said to me as Megan and I left the room.

"Sure Darry. If you go to the air hockey tables... don't use table number three. It's not working right."

"Have fun, Pone." he said, as he closed the door.

XXX

Steve and I were busy trying to out shoot each other at the water pistol table, which was where the bulk of my money was quickly evaporating to. Darry and Two-Bit were nearby, engaged in an air hockey match to end all matches. It was hard to hear anything, the music was loud and people were everywhere. Finally I heard Darry holler out, and I turned to look. He had finally defeated Two-Bit, who was shaking his head but smiling about his defeat. They came over to us, and watched as the water pressure finally died down. Steve beat me, but only by a few points. He hit the closer targets early, while I went for the targets further back. That strategy cost me in the long run. I looked at my watch, it was going on eight.

"Ready to head back, maybe grab something to eat in the hotel?"

Darry looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, we've hung out long enough. Besides, this place will cost me a fortune if I stay any longer."

We walked back to the hotel, hearing the loud music coming from the conference room that the hotel people had turned into a huge dance hall.

"Want to crash the party?" Steve asked as we watched from the sidelines at one of the open doors.

"Can't. No jersey, no admittance." I answered. Besides, Pony's coach knew all of us, and wouldn't hesitate to throw Steve and Two-Bit out... Darry and me, he'd probably let slide since we're Pony's guardians. Okay, Darry was... but even coach knew I had just as much responsibility for Pony, even if it wasn't legally my job.

"The kid has a few extra jerseys in his bag upstairs, doesn't he?" Two-Bit's turn.

"Grease, don't even try it. You want Pony disqualified?" I didn't know if Pony could be DQ's for something that lame, but I wasn't gonna risk it, either.

Darry was smiling, ignoring us and our conversation altogether.

"What is it?" I asked, nudging him on the arm.

"Pony and Megan are dancing again," he said simply. "I didn't know he could dance that well, considering every dance I've ever seen him at, he's usually trying to blend in with the paint."

I turned to look. I had to scan the crowd, as there was a lot of movement within the party, but finally I saw his teal and gold jersey. Sure enough, he was out there, dancing and having fun. It wasn't a fast song, but not a slow sappy one either, so there was an honest amount of hand-holding going on. He had a look on his face that the camera didn't catch last time, one you had to be closer to see. He really liked this girl. Seemed she dug him too. Left me with a funny feeling, knowing he really was getting past that 'girls are icky' stage. Bout time.

"Come on, lets get out of here... grab some burgers from the hotels restaurant and go up to eat. Enough gawking."

Darry steered us all to the other side of the building, where we grabbed some food and headed up.

"You know, the kid ain't gonna be the same anymore," Two-Bit said as we settled around the small table in our room with burgers for each of us and a big pile of fries in the middle to share.

"Yep. I don't envy you two at all!" Steve said with a chuckle. "Glad I don't have to deal with that mess."

"He ain't a 'mess,' Steve; he's Ponyboy. And between all of us, he's probably got the most sense when it comes to girls." I said, defending him.

"Sense is one thing, but experience is another. The more experience he gets, the less sense he'll have. Give him a week. Hormones will take over, and he'll be tripping over his own tongue in no time." Steve laughed in confidence. Darry, I noticed, wasn't saying a word either way.

A few minutes after nine, there was a knock a the door, and Steve opened it for us. Pony came in, looking happy but tired.

"Have fun, kid?" Two-Bit asked.

"Yup," he went into the bathroom and I heard the general sounds of him getting ready for bed. A while later he came out, dressed only in his sweat pants, and lay down on the bed. He was already asleep before his head hit the pillow. He never even made it under the covers. I looked at Darry.

"He's got a tough couple of races to go through tomorrow. Guys, better call it a night."

"Sure thing. Bus leaves at what time in the morning?"

"Seven thirty sharp. First race isn't until nine, though. Don't gripe about the long wait between races; I can't change it, the athletes don't like it and you'll just have to accept it like the rest of us. All part of the process."

"Sure, Darry. Night guys." Two-Bit called out softly, watching Pony sleeping on the bed a second longer before he and Steve headed off to their own room.

XXX

Several miles up the street, in a seedy hotel room, Sheldon looks over his rifle once more. The day to avenge his son's death was so close he could feel the excitement surging in him. He had already gone to the arena, found his seat and the hidden spot he would use. He had even gone to the hotel the kid was staying at... having gotten that information also from the student newspaper. Sheldon watched him dancing with that girl, thinking how Bobby lost his life over that tramp Cherry, all because that hood put his moves on her. Now he had moved on, whereas Bobby was stuck in the ground, forgotten. After tomorrow, this worthless kid's family would suffer as he did. And he would be glad.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	16. Feeling Numb

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 16

**Feeling Numb**

XXX

The doctor left the room, leaving the four of us to ourselves. Soda was sitting there in his chair, tears streaming down his face, but silent. I went over to him and knelt down next to him, putting my arm around his shoulder and pulling him to me. He slid forward, wrapping his arms around my chest.

"He's alive, Darry," he softly managed to say between the catches in his voice.

"I know, Pepsi. I know." I looked at the guys, huddled nearby, and carefully chose my words.

"Steve, Two-Bit, I have some phone calls I need to make. Will you both stay with Soda for me? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Sure, Darry. We won't leave him. You sure you don't want one of us to go with you?" Steve asked.

"No. I'm fine. Stay with Soda. I don't want him left alone, not after all this." I looked at Soda, seeing the haze in his eyes. The medicine they gave him still hadn't worn off. "I'll be right back, Sodapop. Okay?"

He nodded his head. I left the room, asked the nurse where the phones were, and she let me use the one in the glassed room behind the nurses desk.

"Hello?" I heard the man say.

"Officer Mitchell?"

"Speaking. How may I help you?"

"This is Darrel Curtis. You want to know how to help me, then _arrest_ that son of a bitch that just shot my brother."

"Darrel? He shot Ponyboy? Where are you?"

"Oklahoma City General Hospital. Pony got shot while running at his competition."

"Is he alright?"

"He's alive, at least. Might have brain damage. His heart stopped for a while during surgery. Are you _finally_ gonna go do something about this?"

"Darrel, stay with your brothers. I'm assuming Soda is with you?"

"Yes, he's here."

"_Stay_ there. I'm going to make some calls. Don't leave the hospital, I'll be there as soon as I can. Might take an hour or two. Trust me, Darrel. He won't get away with this."

"_Trust_ is something I am running out of with you. This is your last chance." I was ready to call up Tim and have my own moment with Sheldon. But as long as Pony has breath in his body, I had to hold back. He was depending on me to keep it together. It was getting harder to do, though.

"I won't let you down, Darrel. Stay with your brothers, they need you."

He hung up the phone. I looked back at the room the guys were in. Through the small glass window in the door, I watched as Steve had his arm over Soda's shoulder while Two-Bit sat on the table next to Soda. I was glad they hadn't left his side. I sighed and pulled out my wallet, searching through the many slips of paper and business cards I had shoved in there and forgotten about. Then I found what I was looking for and dialed the number, so long ago forgotten.

"Church Of St. Mary, Sister Anne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Sister Anne. Afternoon, ma'am. Is Father Bryce in? It's important."

"Certainly, son. Hold on." There was a pause, then the phone was picked up again.

"Father Bryce here. How may I help you?"

"Father Bryce, my name is Darrel Curtis. My mother, Beverly Curtis, used to play the piano for the church choir before she and my father were killed. Do you by chance remember her?"

"Of course I remember Beverly. What is it, son? What do you need?"

"My youngest brother has been shot, I don't know if he'll make it. His heart's already stopped once. Could you... could you come and perform Last Rites?"

"Of course, my son. Where is he?"

"Oklahoma City General Hospital, intensive care unit."

"I'm on my way."

I hung up, felt the tears coming again, and choked down the sobs wracking my chest. Hope wasn't gone, but it was slim. I let out a quivering sigh, trying my best to pull it together. Soda still needed me. The guys looked up to me to be steady. Damn, I was tired of being the strong one. For Ponyboy, I would be – even if it took the last bit of strength I had.

A box of tissues... not the cheap pathetic kind hospitals give to patients, but the good kind - the kind someone brings from home, was placed in front of me. A gentle hand was on my arm, and I looked up to see a young nurse looking at me with kindness and concern in her eyes. Man, I must look pathetic. Sad thing was, I didn't even care.

"If you're done with your phone calls, we're ready to take you to see Ponyboy," the nurse called gently to me. I looked at her and nodded, getting up and heading over to get the guys. Time to be strong again.

XXX

_Eight Hours Ago:_

"Up and at 'em, Pone. Wake up, you got to go running. Coach will be pounding on our door in an hour if you ain't down there. Lets go!"

Darry was shaking me, but I really didn't want to get up. I was having a very delightful dream about something I would rather not say, and he was interrupting something I was sort of looking forward to. Damn, too late. I was up, in more ways than one. At least I was laying on my stomach. Now what?

"Okay, Darry, geez, I'm awake already."

Soda was bouncing around the room busy getting dressed, and Darry was using the coffee maker the hotel room provided. I looked at where they were and how close I was to the bathroom door, and knew I could make it if I bolted fast enough without them seeing my, _ahem_, problem. My sweat pants just weren't gonna hide it if I got up casually. I flipped off my stomach and slipped in the bathroom just in time to hear Soda call out, "Hey, save it for the races today, Pone."

Sure, but this sprint had nothing to do with racing. I turned on the faucets, glad I was behind a door, _alone_, and got ready for the day.

XXX

"What do you think that was all about?" Soda asked me. I had an idea, noticing Pony's body language just before I woke him up. I was going to have to have a talk with him as soon as we got home. For now - and to keep it totally silent - I said nothing to Soda, actually surprised he didn't notice Pony's behavior and put two and two together for himself. Hell, he _sleeps _with Pony, something _else_ I was going to have to put an end to.

"Haven't got a clue. Probably just race day nonsense." After a while, Pony came out of the shower looking as normal as he usually does. I drank the cheap coffee while he got his running uniform on, then pulled his sweats on over that, and finally slipped on his shoes. He never wore his cleats unless he was on the track. His regular shoes were worn and nearly destroyed, but his cleats - he treated with care.

"Ready, Ponyboy?" I asked.

"Um hmm. I think I have everything. I packed my bag already, it's in the bathroom. You're gonna take it back, right?"

"Yeah, we will. I won't forget. You don't need to worry, your dirty clothes and your toothbrush are safe with us." I had my arm around him in a one armed hug, and held him to me. "Ya know, kiddo, I'm already proud of you. No matter how well you do, you've made it farther than most others have. You reading me?"

"Yeah, I'm reading ya. Now, lemme go so I can get downstairs before I miss the bus!"

I let him go and walked with him down to the lobby. I saw his coach and waved, but I heard Pony's name being called out from a different direction. Megan. _Damn_. I know she's a nice girl, but right now, she was messing with his head - the last thing a guy needs before he's to race. He heard her too, and turned.

"Hey, good luck today!" she said, pushing him on the shoulder after she made it through the crowd of people in the lobby. I watched as he just grinned.

"You too. Call you later... maybe we can meet up before the end of the day again."

"That would be great!" I heard her name being called from somewhere, and she turned to look. "Rats, I gotta go. See ya!"

And like that, she was bounding off toward her school's bus.

"Hey!" I snapped at him. His eyes went from her disappearing form to me. "Pay attention. Race first... girls later. _Much_ later. Got that?"

He rolled his eyes but nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I got it. She's just a friend, Darry. Don't get so worked up!"

"Curtis! On the bus! Now!" Coach Devers called out.

"Gotta go! See ya after the races!"

"Good luck, Ponyboy!" I called to him as he bounded off to his ride. He got on board, and I watched as the bus pulled away. I looked up, the sky was nearly cloudless, a few cotton ball shaped clouds rolled lazily by. Gonna be a good day. I finished the coffee and went back upstairs. We had to be checked out of the hotel by eleven, but the races started at nine. I wanted to be there by eight and in our seats by eight thirty. Time to get a move on, pack, and get on the way if we were going to get a quick bite to eat. Pony never eats breakfast on race day... makes him feel sluggish, but not even a cracker was safe when he was done running. It was a strategy that worked for him, so I didn't mess with it. Besides, Soda and I hope to take him out for a real nice steak dinner after closing ceremonies today. He's earned it, however he finishes.

XXX

The crowds were thick, people everywhere. I found my way to my seat, under the shade, directly across from the VIP overhang, and stood by it. There was a closed concession stand near by, signs posted on it stated it was closed for repair. I noticed it the other day when I was here, and even broke off the cheap lock that was on it then, slipping my own lock in it's place so I could get in faster without being seen. As the crowds got thicker, kids screaming about being hot or bored while their parents either shushed them or ignored them, I decided it was time to slip away into my hiding spot.

I was in and had the door shut behind me in no time, seen - as expected, by no one. This was too easy! I had my weapon already assembled and jammed down one leg of my pants, which was why I couldn't sit down before. I slid in the ammunition and waited. The small ventilation window was all I needed to get off the perfect shot. I only needed one good shot, and as the hood would come running right up the backstretch toward me, it would be impossible to miss. Bobby's death would be avenged. Blood for blood.

An hour went by, sweat beaded up on my face and I wiped it away. Runners were called to the field, I searched for that gold and teal jersey, but didn't see it. Three races later, there it was. He was lined up, oblivious to what was waiting for him around the corner. I smiled, my time had finally come. The starters pistol went off, and the kids were running. I aimed my rifle, sighted my target, and squeezed off a round.

XXX

"Runners for the 200 meter relay, to the blocks!" came the call. I had lane four, so I got into position, crouched down and felt my legs coil like springs, ready to jump out and go. Everything around me went silent as tunnel vision instantly blocked everything out, and finally the pistol went off. The 200 isn't that long of a race, so I knew if I didn't get out into first place fast, it wasn't going to happen. Sure enough, I was in the lead. I rounded the curve and headed up the backstretch, my legs pumping furiously, when suddenly I heard a bang rip through that tunnel vision, and instantly felt a white hot burning in my stomach.

It knocked me off my feet, took all the air out of my lungs and down I went, tasting the clay in my open mouth as well as coughing up another taste strange yet familiar to me, but I couldn't remember from where. I was suddenly so tired, not sure_ why_ I was tired. I still had other races to go. This wasn't right. What was wrong? I couldn't even turn over, I was suddenly so tired. Then I felt so _cold_, as if winter had come back. Wait, wasn't it spring? Or was it summer? I went swimming not too long ago. Nothing was clear. I think I was wet... did I piss myself? I was numb, first my feet, then legs and now my whole lower half. I felt arms on me, heard voices calling to me. I remembered those voices. Did I oversleep again? Soda. Soda was here, Darry too, turning me over. That wetness was worse, I really hoped I hadn't pee'd. I didn't want my brothers to see me like this. I had lost the strength to even hold my head up, and now I felt nothing below my chest. I coughed again, that foreign taste still in my mouth, but worse now.

"Soda?" I sputtered, sorry to spray but oddly enough unable to swallow. "I ca... can't feel my feet, Sssoda."

The effort to hold on was too much. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep. I felt like a leaf, floating down a lazy stream. I just wanted to relax and float away. I'd run later, maybe next year. Didn't matter. Nothing did.

XXX

"Wow, look at him go!" Two-Bit said, smiling.

"Jeez, he's fast!" agreed Steve.

I was having a good time watching my youngest brother showing his stuff, certain he was on the threshold of his very _first,_ first place finish in a State competition. Then out of nowhere, I heard a BLAM, and watched Pony go down.

"What the _hell_? Did he trip?" Steve asked in disbelief, bolting up in his seat.

"Oh, shit, Darry, he's not getting up!" Soda noticed it first, always faster on the draw when it came to instinctively knowing something was seriously wrong.

He dropped his drink, spilling the Pepsi all over the bleachers as he scrambled past Steve and Two-Bit in his determination to get to the field, and suddenly the whole place started moving. And I mean_ everyone._ People in the stands were pushing their way to the exits, crowding at the doors; athletes on the field - over eight hundred of them, were scampering inside whatever rooms and behind whatever doorways they could find. Some were way out in the open field and lay flat on the ground or huddled behind tables. I was behind Soda, watching as he plowed his way through the throngs of people. The guys were bringing up the rear, screaming "Move it!" and "Get out of the way!" to whoever blocked their path. No one really heard them, everyone was screaming by now.

Soda reached him first, and when we turned Pony over, that's when I _knew_ what the look of impending death looked like. Haunted. Pained. A tortured peace. It was all there, reflected in his eyes.

XXX

Watching the kid slam into the red clay half a heartbeat later, I felt a surge of pleasure. Finally, that scum was dead. People were running around everywhere. In ten seconds I had my weapon disassembled in two parts, shoved it into different pockets of my pants with the stock back down my leg, and slipped out of my room; blending in with the throngs of spectators leaving the arena as fast as they could. Once in my car, I headed for the highway. Nervous, I popped on the radio, listening to the music when suddenly a special report went out.

"_This is a special report. There has been a shooting at the Oklahoma City Athletic Coliseum, where upwards of a thousand teenage athletes from across the state are competing in Field and Track events. The Lieutenant Governor was in attendance but has been safely evacuated from the scene. At least one student has been shot and is believed dead. Authorities are still sorting out details of the shooter's identity, who has not yet been apprehended. All students are being sent to the indoor stadium adjacent to the Athletic Coliseum for their safety at this time. Further updates will be broadcast when we have them. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming."_

"Yes!" I screamed, pumping my fist in the air as I drove down the road. Success and sweet revenge were mine!

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	17. Visitors To The Unit

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 17

**Visitors To The Unit**

XXX

I looked over my shoulder, making sure I wasn't being watched. Darry and a nurse had just come in, wanting to take us to the kid's room. While she was telling us about what to expect... what sorts of stuff he was connected to and all, I slipped out, saying I needed to use the men's room. In reality, I had different reasons. Medical talk gives me the willies in the first place. Just let me sit next to the kid, I neither want nor need to know what each machine does. Let the medical folks take care of it. Also, I needed to make a call. I knew if I didn't make this call _now_, there probably wouldn't be any other time to make it. I put in my dimes and dialed the number, hoping he would be home.

"Tim? Two-Bit." .... "No, there's been some trouble." .... "I'm calling because... look, no easy way for me to say it, and I ain't got time to explain it, but Ponyboy Curtis got shot." ... "Yes, shot."...... "It don't look good." ..... "Darry and Soda are here at the hospital, but between them, Steve, and me, we're in need of some money.".... "I don't know how long we'll be down here, but I know they ain't got enough." … "Oklahoma City." ...... "Oklahoma City General Hospital, intensive care."...... "No, they don't know I'm calling, you think Darry would ever admit to needing help?"... "I'll be out in front of the hospital in two hours, then, to meet you. Tim... thanks."

XXX

"Marty Owens, please." I said when the phone was picked up on their end.

"Hold on.." the sounds of the phone being covered with something didn't mask the shout of "Marty" I easily heard next.

"Owens here."

"Marty, it's Tom. This a secure line?"

"No, but go ahead. What's up, Tom."

"Have you heard what was on the radio? About that kid at the athletic stadium being shot?"

"Yeah, I heard. If he's dead, he'll be on my table by tonight. Why?"

Tom's voice lowered. "Remember our lunch conversation a few months back... about that Curtis-Sheldon case? That's the same kid. And according to the family, he ain't dead. This is one kid I _don't _want on your table. But I _do_ want the shooter. I'm on my way there, be there within the hour. Can you and some of your friends … the ones you mentioned from Vice, help out on this? I want this bastard, Marty. I want him."

"I think they'll be willing to help. Stadium, huh? Tell ya what, I'll round them up and we'll be waiting for you there when you get to the city."

"Thanks, Marty."

XXX

"Ponyboy is in here. He's sleeping, sedated. He's breathing on his own, and again, the machines around him that he's hooked to just let us know how he's doing without having to disturb him. I'll get you some extra chairs. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Pony lay on the bed, hooked to more things than I could identify. I went to his side and wrapped my hand around his, and bent down to kiss his forehead. He was warm, a small sheen of sweat glistened his skin. Despite my touch, he had no response; but I hoped Soda would fare better. He was on the other side of Pony, holding his other hand in his and was slowly, gently, massaging his fingers through Pony's hair.

"We're here, Little Colt. We're here." Soda was using Mom's nickname for Ponyboy, something I hadn't heard in years. I'd almost forgotten it, but obviously Soda hadn't. Pony gave no reaction to the nickname, I hoped it was only because he was so sedated. I figured now was as good a time as any to tell them Father Bryce was on the way.

"Soda, I called the church... I asked Father Bryce to come."

He looked at me, nodding. The guys looked at me also, a look of surprise on their faces. Soda didn't fully get what I was saying.

"Soda, I asked Father Bryce to come... to give Last Rites."

"No, Darry!" His voice was low but strong, and he held Pony tighter. Obviously the medicine the nurse gave him was finally wearing off.

"Soda, it's the right thing to do. It's what Mom would have done. It's what Pony would want done."

"I didn't realize the kid was Catholic." Two-Bit quietly said.

"He's not." Soda spat, which didn't explain anything. "Mom was Catholic. Dad was Protestant. They let us choose. Dad was never much into going to church anyway, wanting to spend his Saturday's and Sunday's with us - seeing as how the rest of the week was spent with him at work. Mom played piano for the church choir down at the Church Of St. Mary. Pony simply went to watch her play, Catholicism had nothing to do with it."

Why was I the enemy here? "Soda, this has to be done." I said plaintively. "I don't want to get to the gates of heaven one day and have Mom ask me why I didn't do this."

"He ain't dead, Darry." Soda whispered, tears falling on Pony's sleeping face. "He ain't gonna die."

I gently wiped Soda's tears off Pony's cheek where they had fallen.. "No, he's not. And I don't want him to, either. If you don't want to be here when Father Bryce gets here, I understand. Maybe one of the guys can stay with you...."

"I ain't leaving him, either." Soda interrupted.

"No, I didn't think you would." I reached over Pony and brushed dry the tracks of Soda's tears from his face. Until Pony woke up, we were in a standstill, not knowing how much of the brother we knew as "Ponyboy" was left.

XXX

A knock was heard, and we all turned our heads. Some man was standing at the doorway of Pony's cubicle, badge on his belt but wearing regular clothes. A cop. Great. Darry and Soda had already talked with the cops once since we got here, well,_ Darry_ did. Soda just stayed at Pony's side. I was getting tired of their useless questioning, they weren't doing anything to catch this bastard anyway. Darry, however... always keeping his head, got up and went to the man.

"Mitchell, have you arrested him yet?" Darry's voice took me by surprise. He was rough, unusual for him to be so bold with cops. Something else was up. I sat up and paid closer attention.

"Not yet. Darrel, we have to _find_ him first. But we will. What happened?"

"_What happened_? _Look _at my brother!" Soda rose out of his seat, nearly shouting while pulling back the sheet and blanket, revealing a thick bandage nearly covering the kids entire abdomen, along with palm sized bruises in the middle of his chest where they'd done CPR while in surgery. I was up in a flash, as was Two-Bit, the both of us pushing Soda back into his chair and replacing the sheet down around the kid. Even I had to admit, now that I'd seen it, the kid looked in bad shape.

"No, Soda. Don't do this. Let Darry handle the cop, you think about Ponyboy. Cool it, buddy." I commanded, and for once, he listened. That, or he saw the nurses turn to look. I remembered the doc said we could stay _only_ if we gave them no trouble. This, I was pretty sure, constituted trouble.

"Soda, I'm sorry Ponyboy was shot. I understand his condition is critical? I know how close you three brothers are, and he needs you. You all need each other to get through this. Let me do my job and catch this creep. Now, Darrel, what happened?"

Darry told him, although it wasn't much. Starters pistol went off, Pony jumped into the lead and after he rounded the curve, a second shot rang out and Pony went down. No one saw where that shot came from, no one saw the shooter. Mitchell wrote it down, looked at his watch and glanced at Ponyboy.

"I'm meeting some guys from the local Vice squad at the stadium, but I wanted to stop here first, let you know I was here and doing something to catch the man responsible. We _will _catch him, Darrel, Soda. He won't get away with this. Let me go, I'll check back in later." The cop turned around and left.

"Darry, what's going on. You _know _who did this?" Two-Bit caught the same idea I had. I looked closer at Darry, and as he stood at the foot of the bed near where I was sitting, he finally nodded.

He lifted the thin blanket and sheet off Pony's feet and rubbed them, looking intently into the kid's face - I guessed to see if Pony twitched at all. I knew paralysis was one of their concerns, and as I watched Darry carefully holding one foot then the other, I realized how severe this really was. It wasn't just a passing thing that he'd recover from and we'd tease him about for for a while. If he ended up being paralyzed, it was lifelong - and it would affect us all. Damn, I felt like shit.

"The cops traced the blue Mustang that nearly hit Ponyboy back a few months ago to Sheldon, Robert Sheldon; the father of the kid Johnny killed in the park last fall," he explained.

I understood, as I knew Two-Bit did as well. This story was one we _all_ knew, but never spoke of, to each other or anyone else. Tim knew too, but outside our small circle, it was kept quiet. The pain of losing little Johnny and cold hearted Dally was just the horrifying conclusion to watching the emotional devastation Darry and Soda went through that week. I thought that mess was over, but looking at the kid with all the medical tubes and wires either going to him or away from him, it was obvious it wasn't.

"Why didn't you tell us it was Sheldon? We could have had that prick dealt with months ago." I asked.

Darry ran his hands over Pony's calves, then put the sheet and blanket back down. The kid never stirred, then Darry leaned on the footboard of the bed and looked at us.

"That's _exactly _why I didn't tell you. I didn't need what was left of us in jail for assault and battery. Besides, we have no proof it was Sheldon driving the car. Pony didn't see him, and no one else saw Pony get run off the road. One poor kid's word against a rich adult... it's no secret who the cops would believe. _That_ cop knows what's going on. If he doesn't get Sheldon _this_ time… well, you three just stay at home. I don't need any of you following me to take care of it."

Darry's tone got everyone's attention. Even Soda turned to look. We all understood what Darry meant.

"Excuse me?"

_Another_ visitor. _Crap. _Don't people leave anyone alone anymore? They don't get this many visitors at their house! I turned to look, and nearly fell off my chair.

XXX

I looked up, and saw Father Bryce standing at the doorway. He was dressed in his black robes with his white collar around his neck. Darry went and shook his hand, all I did was get to my feet. I still couldn't believe Darry had called him. To me, it was like he had given up, even though a part of me really did understand the importance of what he was doing. Darry and the Father went out by the nurse's desk to talk, and I sat back down and held Pony's hand in one of mine, while wrapping my other arm around his head to rest my other hand on his far shoulder. I leaned in close to his ear, and spoke to him.

"We're here, Pone. You just rest up and get better. This ain't your time, you still have lots of living to do. Graduation, college, trips around the world, getting it on with your girl, marriage and a whole bunch of kids to have. And in that order, too. Might need to get a job somewhere in that planning though, but we'll talk about it. Okay, Little Colt? Don't give up. Please, Pony, don't give up."

Two-Bit and Steve heard me, but they didn't say anything. Two-Bit simply looked at the floor, Steve smirked some about the 'getting it on' part. Hard to picture Pony in that scenario. While the rest of us are all experienced, he's still just a kid to us. That last piece of innocence still intact, and we all knew it. Darry and Father Bryce came back in, and Darry came over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders, pulling me slightly away from the bed. I took his lead and got up, then Darry moved the chair I was sitting on out of the way.

The Father started in, reading some stuff from the Bible, then moving on to blessing Pony, then the oil was spread in a small cross on his forehead, and again on each of his hands and feet. Darry stood next to me like a rock, emotionless. I, however, was about to become a blathering bawl- baby again. I tried to hold it together, not really wanting another dose of that medicine that nurse gave me before. It didn't stop me from feeling upset, but rather it acted like a dam, holding back my emotions. I closed my eyes, hoping the Father would be done soon. While my eyes were shut, I felt one of Darry's arms go around me, and Steve had silently walked over on my other side. I could feel Two-Bit behind me, watching the Father over my shoulder.

I hated death. It's cheated everyone I've loved so far. Mom and Dad shouldn't have died so young, not able to see us grow up... Pony missing Mom and Dad so much that he _still,_ at times, cries out for them at night. I've shushed him back to sleep so many times before he fully woke up that I've lost count. Darry doesn't even know about it most of the time. Johnny barely got to experience life in the first place, and it certainly wasn't a good one; Dally literally _daring _death to kill him. Now Pony sits somewhere between death and life, a place the doctors call "critical." Well, everything has to have a term, I guess that one would do as well as any other.

"Amen," the Father said, and Darry and I said it too. Habit. We'd been in church before, albeit a long time ago. Some things just stick with you. He went to Pony's side and pulled out a rosary, wrapping the beaded string around Pony's limp fingers, the cross left dangling between his thumb and index finger. Father Bryce then wordlessly shook first my hand then Darry's, and I pulled my chair back to sit down again.

"I gotta go out for a few minutes, you guys want anything?" Two-Bit said.

"No, thanks though." I said, not looking away.

"Soda, come with me for a bit. Please?" Steve called. That made me look. Steve never says 'please,' to _anyone_ - well except Evie, when he's wanting attention. I looked at Pony, and nodded. I needed a break. I had to calm down, get a grip. I wasn't going to be any good to anyone if I didn't get control of my own waterworks. My tough reputation, however, was already in the toilet.

"I'll be back, Pone. Gotta go drain the snake. Not all of us get to have a catheter, afterall!" I gave him a kiss on his forehead, and followed Steve from the room. Two-Bit had already left.

"I'm stealing your brother for a while. I'll bring him back in a bit, okay, Darry?" Steve said as he passed by the Father and Darry talking outside the room.

"Sure. I'll be here when you guys get back," Darry said.

Once out of the ICU, the air was cooler and the halls brighter. I found the men's room and went in, Steve following. I took care of my business then went to wash my hands and splash some water on my face. Meanwhile, Steve took care of his business at the other urinal, washed up, then kept busy combing his hair in the mirror as he waited for me to get ready to go back out. I finally pushed against the counter, trying to pull out the knots and cramps in my back. I looked at my watch, and smirked.

"What is it, Sodapop?" Steve asked in a quiet voice.

It was nearing four thirty. "Darry and I were gonna take Pony out to an early dinner to celebrate whatever awards he won. We should be sitting down at some nice steak house that we really can't afford right about now, not _here_ doing_ this_. What the fuck happened, Steve? I mean, _really_...how did this just _happen_?"

"The kid's gonna pull through, Soda. He's just sedated right now, remember? Once the sedation wears off, he'll wake up, and _then _you two can chat about him scoring with girls and having a dozen kids. In his medicated state, even I would love to hear that conversation." He was quiet a moment as he put his comb back in his pocket, then he turned to face me. "You know the kid's gonna pull through. He's young, tough, and strong. He's a fighter. He'll make it."

"Since when did you start caring this much?"

"Hell, Sodapop. I _do_ care. I always have. You guys are more like family to me than my own worthless pop. But you go telling anyone this, I'll rat about how you can boo-hoo like a girl at the drop of a hat. Got me?" he was smiling, about to laugh. He even got me to smile for a moment.

"Yeah. Hey Steve?"

"What?" he looked over at me as we left the men's room.

"Thanks."

He just nodded and chucked me on my shoulder.

XXX

I sat by Pony's side, holding his hand and thinking about when I first saw him. Man, was he a tiny baby! Mom and Dad took us to go see Grandma in Independence, Kansas, which was just supposed to be a one day trip. It ended up being a four day event. I remembered Mom being uncomfortable in the car for most of the trip, but she had been uncomfortable for the whole seven or eight months she was pregnant with him anyway. I barely remember her being pregnant with Soda, but I won't forget the troubled looks she had on her face with Pony inside her. She was tired all the time, and her back ached something fierce. He really put her through the ringers, but of course, it wasn't really his fault. It's a faint memory now, but I still remember her letting me put my hand on her bare belly, feeling him wiggling all over inside her. Guess he was practicing for future track meets then, too.

We got to Grandma's just in time for her and Dad to get me and Soda out of the car right before her water broke. She had been right in front of me, so I didn't miss anything. I thought something bad had happened, watching that huge gush of fluid and hearing Mom suddenly moan in pain and unable to stand up straight; but Dad just patted my head, bent down to my level, looked me right in the eye and said I was to look out for Sodapop and listen to Grandma while he took Mom to the hospital.

He came back later that evening, and I overheard him telling Grandma that Mom was okay; weak and exhausted, but okay. He said the baby was very small, being that he was early. I remembered his tone was one of concern, but I didn't get why. I guess if I had understood then what I knew now, I would know what a blessing it was he'd made it at all. Then again, he's always been a fighter. Finally, four days later, they let both Mom and Ponyboy come home. That's when I saw him. Mom was holding him in her arms, wrapped in a small blue blanket as Soda and I came into the room. She motioned for me to come over. Soda, for perhaps the _only _time in his life, was really not all that interested in this new person, our new brother. Soda had moved from being the baby in the family to the middle child, and wasn't happy at all with his new situation. I crept forward, not sure what to expect, but then I saw him, absolutely the _tiniest _baby I had ever seen.

"He's early, Darry, that's why he's so small. But this new brother of yours is a fighter. Watch how strong he is already." Dad took my finger and had me touch his small pink hand with it. Instantly, this tiny baby grabbed hold of me with a grip that felt so _powerful_, and I felt an instant need to protect him. I still feel it.

Back then, he wouldn't let go of me. Now as I sit here, holding his hand in mine; the back of my hand stroking the back of his, I felt tears welling up in my eyes and my throat swelling shut. I didn't want to let go of_ him_. I leaned closer and choked back a sob.

"Don't, Pony... _please_ don't. I ain't ready. You hear me? I ain't ready to let you go."

XXX

"Hey, Tim. Have a good ride?"

"Cut the B.S., Mathews. Where's the kid, and Darry?"

"Upstairs. Kid's in ICU." I knew that look on Tim, but I had to make it clear first. "Look, Darry doesn't know I asked you for money. I want to keep it that way. He's got enough going on than to have what little he's still keeping together to fall apart. I'll pay you back, I swear. Just, keep this between you and me."

"Mathews, shut up and take me to Darry, before I pound you."

Glad I made that clear. He gave me twenty bucks. Yep... looks like it was budget time. I wound him through the hospital, and into the ICU.

"Darrel." Tim softly said from the doorway.

Darry wiped his eyes and turned to see us standing there. "Tim. Hey, I guess one of the guys called you, huh?"

"Yep. How's the kid?"

"Sedated. He's been through the wringer, shot in the stomach, heart stopped on the operating table. They got it back... but they don't know what kind of hit his brain took from it. The surgeon had to remove some of his intestine that they couldn't repair. Hell, I don't even know if he's paralyzed or not. They want him out for the night, in the morning they plan to hold off on the sedation, let him wake up. Then we'll know if…. well, then we'll know." Darry's voice tapered off.

"How long can you and Soda hold out of work?"

"Jesus Christ!" Darry suddenly shielded his face with his hands, then dropped them. "I forgot about work! Shit! I don't know. My boss is pretty good about family stuff, but he ain't just gonna let me take off for more than a week. I don't even know about Soda's boss. And being an hour away from Tulsa won't help, either."

Tim walked to the kid's bedside, feeling his cheek and looking at him sleeping. Poor kid. Pony would hate to know everyone was wanting to pet him, like he was a puppy or something. Tim turned around and sat down, Darry and I did the same. I took Soda's seat, leaning on the bed, wrapping the kid's fingers in mine. If he were to wake, even for a second, I think he'd want to know we were here.

"I'll take care of the DX. His boss owes me some favors. Can't help out Steve, though. I know that grease is hanging around here somewhere. Where are Soda and Steve anyway?" Tim asked, looking around.

"They left about thirty minutes ago. Soda's taking this hard. Real hard."

"Hell, Darrel, did you expect any different? Those two brothers are tight."

"No, not really. And for the record, we _three _are tight, not just those two. But I know what you mean."

"Sheldon do this?" Tim asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence, perking my ears up.

"Yup. I'm convinced. Cop's out looking for him. If they don't find him, I will." Darry's voice was icy. Dangerously icy. I wondered if he remembered I was in the room. This sounded like a private conversation, not the usual way Darry spoke about anything, no matter how riled he got.

"Let me take care of it. You got the kids to look after. They need you, and can't afford to lose you."

"My brother is laying in a hospital bed because I trusted a cop to handle things. This cop is on his last chance, then the gloves are coming off. Soda's a big boy, he don't need me to take care of him anymore. I'm sure he and Steve would buddy up, look out for each other if something sent me away for a while."

"And the kid? He needs you, too."

Darry said nothing, just looked at the floor, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between them. He was too tall for these low chairs, but that would be the last thing he would complain about.

Tim got up, handing Darry an envelope. "Here, a gift. Take it, don't give me no crap about it either. I know you didn't come down here with much, so don't friggin argue with me. Greasers take care of greasers, I got your back. Take care of Soda, the kid, _and_ yourself. Call me if you need anything, I mean it, Curtis. Anything. Time for me to head back to Tulsa, see what trouble Angela's gotten into. Call me when the kid wakes up. I'll watch your house for you, if you want."

Darry looked at the envelope stuffed with cash, and then at Tim. At first, I thought Darry would argue about the money, but then he nodded and pocketed it.

"Yeah, if you could check on it for me, that would be great. Thanks, Tim."

"No problem, Curtis." Tim went around the doorway and disappeared.

"Two-Bit." Darry called to me. _Shit. _He was going to lay into me about the money, I just knew it.

"Yeah, Darry?"

"I owe ya, buddy," he softly said, looking at the floor.

XXX

"Soda?" A voice called to me, I stopped and turned to find it. Steve nearly ran into me carrying his tray of drinks. He cursed under his breath as the young gal came over.

"How's Ponyboy?"

"Megan, right?" she nodded. Her light brown eyes had that puffy look of a someone who had been crying for a while. She was still in her running gear, right down to her cleats. Pony would never wear his cleats on anything but dirt. Messed them up.

"He's... well, the doc said he's in bad shape. He's in the ICU. Sleeping the rest of the day and into tomorrow. Won't know more until then. What about you guys? What are they going to do about the races?"

"My coach said the committee has to get together and decide. Everybody evacuated the stadium, cops are all over it now. Can I .. um, can I go see him?" She asked in a quiet voice.

I looked at Steve, and he just raised an eyebrow.

"I promise I won't cause any trouble."

Damn, Pony's gal was begging _me_? Jeez Louis! "Megan, it ain't up to me. Besides, ain't you got to stay with the rest of your group?" I looked around, there were still athletes milling about all over the place between the waiting room and the cafeteria. All color jerseys, guys and gals. I was impressed. Pony would be floored.

"My coach and parents are over there in the round booth. Hold on, I'll go square it with momma. She won't say no." And off she went, ponytail swishing side to side.

"Lord, Pony sure can pick 'em!" Steve said in a low voice. We watched as Megan went over to some people at a booth, only one of which - Coach Devers - I recognized. I assumed the others were her parents and her coach.. They talked a moment, then they all came over.

"Lordy, _now_ what?" Steve asked as he sat the drink tray down on the table next to him.

"Soda, how's Ponyboy?" Coach Devers asked quietly. I forgot, none of them had been told.

The room got real quiet as everyone turned to hear my answer. I felt like I was making a gall-dang speech from way back in my old English classes. "He's uh, he's in real bad shape. Won't know more until morning." I didn't even want to say that much. While I appreciated their concern, this was a private matter. It really wasn't their business. I remembered how Pony hated everyone knowing what happened to him before, I doubted he'd want the track world knowing he'd been hurt again. I wondered how many of these kids even_ knew_ Ponyboy. However, no one said anything after I spoke. I doubted any of them really realized how bad Pony was until now.

I looked at Steve, but even Steve didn't know what to say. He picked up his drink tray to leave again, but as we turned, Megan called out again.

"Soda?"

Her voice was pleading, and worry filled her eyes. I gave in. "Sure, if your parents don't mind. But only for a minute. He's out, _really.._. he ain't gonna wake up."

She grabbed something from her gym bag and followed us all the way to his room, then hesitated at the doorway.

"Here, got everyone something to drink." Steve passed the drinks to Darry and Two-Bit, who noticed her behind me.

"You pick up a shadow, Soda?" Darry turned to see who Two-Bit was talking about while I made sure Pony was covered up. He was already safely concealed beneath the sheet and blanket. He wasn't wearing a gown; being that his injury was right on his abdomen and chest, _and _he had IV lines and wires going everywhere; but hospital gowns are pointless anyway. The only parts that ever seemed covered are the parts you don't care if anyone sees in the first place. She silently slid into the room, staring at him.

"Like I told you, Megan, he's sedated... he's not going to talk, not even to us."

Man, this was hitting her hard. Tears welled in her eyes, and began streaming down her face. She nodded, finally breaking her gaze. "I know. Jimminy Crickets... I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to turn on the waterworks. I know you have enough to do without my being in your way." She grabbed some tissues off a table and mopped up her face. "How long will he be in the ICU?"

"We don't know, Megan. Tonight, at least. Maybe tomorrow." Darry softly answered.

I watched as she went over to the bed, and ever so carefully, slid her fingers around his. Subtle, but we all saw it. She wasn't exactly trying to hide it either. Then she slipped a runners baton with what looked like an orange jersey with black numbers wrapped around it in his hand.

"Don't drop it, Ponyboy, this race ain't done yet," she said softly. Another tear slid down, she wiped it away with her hand, and turned from the room. None of us moved the whole time.

Darry broke the silence, getting up and exclaiming to no one in particular, "I'll be back in a bit." I settled back in by Pony. It was going to be a long night, filled with worry, dread and fear. If he woke up and he wasn't … wasn't the _same._.. I wasn't sure how we'd go on.

"Be okay, Pone. Please be okay."

XXX

Cally Lilly Rose


	18. Smoking Gun

Massive amounts of violence in this chapter. Cursing, abuse, inferences to rape. Don't read if you are squeamish.

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 18

**Smoking Gun**

XXX

"Well, what do we have people? I want answers, and I want them _today_. Before the sun sets." Tom Mitchell barked as he marched toward the four men standing on the red clay, yellow evidence markers dotting the ground nearby.

"Guys, this is Tom Mitchell, from out of Tulsa," Marty Owens said in introduction. "I briefed you about Robert Sheldon and his involvement with the kid named Ponyboy Curtis. Seems Sheldon brought his problem into our jurisdiction. Let's give the Tulsa P.D. some help and solve this. Tom, these are Detective's Martin, Adams, Reagan and Hopper. They love to take care of wife and child abusers. Thought you'd like to work with them on this case. Since I left police work years ago to work in the coroner's office, I ain't officially here."

"Well," Martin started off, "the kid collapsed here," he pointed at a blood stain circled in white paint on the ground, "and it was a frontal hit, so the shooter was somewhere there," he now pointed into the empty stands across the field in front of them.

"Did we retrieve the bullet from the hospital?" Adams asked.

"Yes," Martin answered. "It's already downtown being tested for identification. Since the Lt. Governor was in attendance and was sitting in his booth directly across from where the shooter is believed to have been hiding, this could have been a planned hit on the Governor. It wasn't released to the public that the Governor couldn't make it, and just this morning sent the Lt. Governor in his place. Officially, we're treating it as an attempt on the Governors life. Frees up resources faster than saying it was some guy out for revenge for the death of his son against some innocent kid. But, given what Marty's told us, he's probably right."

"Let's go to the stands, see what we can find," Hopper said and led the way.

"Hopper's like a hound dog, Tom. Finds more evidence left behind than you would think." Reagan explained, laughing a bit. They climbed the stands, stopping every now and then to look out.

"Nope, wouldn't have shot from here." Hopper shook his head and moved on without stopping to look.

"Giving up early, Hopper?" Tom asked.

"Nope." Hopper said, turning to look at the Tulsa newcomer. Marty just shook his head. His friend was about to be schooled... and there wasn't thing one he could do about it. "Shooter _couldn't _have fired from anywhere on this level, or even the level above us. Down here, he would have been firing into the athletes standing around, surrounding the track. He wouldn't have been able to fire into the runners on the field. Also, there's nowhere to conceal himself.

"There were 968 athletes on the field, add in about three family members per athlete, a couple of friends per athlete, the scouts, the press, officials, the coaches, and other folks just hanging out; not to mention the staff working the event, and you have a stadium filled with people. Races are notorious for having lots of downtime. People get bored, and start looking around. Someone would have noticed a man with a rifle pointed at the athletes and said something. That's _another_ reason why he didn't shoot from either this level or the one above us; there's nowhere to hide. Now, onward gentlemen, to level three."

Marty looked at Tom and gave him a knowing smile, Tom just nodded. He knew he'd just been bested. These detectives were certainly on their game.

Once on the third level, Hopper started looking around. "This is a perfect area to set up a hit. Not too many people would be up here - a couple, sure, but not the thick masses like there would be on the lower two levels."

"What's this?" Reagan was pointing to a closed concession stand. It was the only thing up here besides the restrooms and seats.

Hopper looked at it from the outside. He noticed the small ventilation window, about six inches wide and four inches long, and had a tear in its screen. "That would probably be where our shooter hid. Adams, got your camera?"

"At the ready, Hopper."

"Start burning film."

Pictures of the concession stand were taken, the window photographed close up and at a distance.

"Martin, come check out the lock." Reagan said, noticing a rusted lock with a broken shackle laying close to the wall outside the concession stand door.

"Adams, camera!" Martin called. Right away, the scene was roped off and gloves were put on. Martin opened the door and saw footprints of someone wearing large mens shoes who had recently stood on the counter. Looking around, they found a shell casing. Adams burned through a roll of film to document the footprints, the shell casing, and its location in comparison to both the window and the footprints. Fingerprint kits came out, and everything was getting covered in black powder. Many prints were lifted, each one photographed, labeled, and bagged for processing. Before long, Tom joined Marty back outside in the sunshine.

"Think this is enough to nail him, Tom?" Marty asked,

Tom looked out. He hoped so, but something kept nagging him. "It would get him in seriously hot water, probably, but I don't know. I need the rifle. I want him for more than shooting a kid. I want him for every damn thing he's done to the Curtis family, to his _own_ family, and to every other family he's wronged. For that, I need to get back to Tulsa. I have a feeling that's where he went."

"He's a wife beater, right?" Reagan asked as he came out for some fresh air. Tom nodded. "If he follows the pattern of other abusers, he'll go back to who he can come down on." Tom just looked at him, not understanding. "I mean, this guy – Sheldon - is on a high right now, shooting some innocent kid. But he has to come down off that high, physically. He'll go to who he knows he can physically blow off steam on without being turned in by. Marty said he's abused his wife..."

"Yeah, I've seen the bruises on her, various stages of healing. She doesn't even try to hide them," Tom agreed.

"Exactly." Reagan continued. "If he follows the pattern that other abusers follow, he'll go back to her. That's my bet."

Tom looked around the stadium, at the markers where the kid collapsed, the box where the Lt. Governor was sitting, then turned back to Marty. "These guys the best?" he asked one last time.

Marty nodded his head. "Oklahoma doesn't have any finer set of detectives. They'll get Sheldon based on evidence from here. You can count on it."

"I got a kid in a hospital bed who's _family_ is counting on it."

"Go on back to Tulsa, catch the bastard there and get the rifle. Find his shoes and his prints, so we can compare them and slam dunk this case. Maybe as a bonus, get a statement from the wife, if she's ready to stop this abuse. We_ got_ him, Tom. You just need to bring him in."

"I'll do it. Thanks, Marty."

"Hey, I ain't here. I'm at the movies watching an Elvis flick. Good to see you again, though, Tom."

Tom went and stuck his head in the door to the concession stand. "Thanks, guys. I owe you. I'm gonna head back to Tulsa now and find me a wife beater, then hopefully charge him with attempted murder."

"Our pleasure."

XXX

The woman was doing the dishes, letting the water run constantly, not caring about the water bill. The silence of the empty house ate at her. Robert left yesterday, no note or word from him about where he was going or how long he would be gone. That was good in a way, it meant the verbal abuse had an intermission for a while, at least for as long as he was away from the house, she wouldn't have to endure it. She was safe, but alone. Loneliness can sometimes be worse. Her thoughts ran unchecked when she was alone, especially in a quiet house. That's why the water ran nonstop when she did the dishes or why the radio was on, not even caring if it was on a station she didn't even like. It was _noise_. Noise kept her from thinking... thinking, about Bobby.

The radio broke with an announcement, about a shooting at the stadium in Oklahoma City. Some boy was shot, might be dead. She didn't pay attention to it, it was just more noise. Her son was dead already. Another mother would bury her son, and go on living in a void. She was too numb to think more on it. She finished the kitchen, making it spotless again. Not that it was hard to do. Once Bobby grew up, grew to be like his _father_, there were no more cakes and pies to bake, no more homemade cinnamon bread to make the house smell warm and good. "Good" ended when Bobby drank. "Good" didn't even exist when Robert was home.

The sound of tires on the gravel driveway made her stop. She looked around, making sure the house was in good order, knowing it wouldn't even matter if he was in a foul mood. The door opened, and Robert was there, flask in one hand, rifle in the other. Fear flooded her. Was it loaded? And was he coming after _her_?

"Robert, honey... did you have a good trip?" She asked with trepidation, her eyes darting from the weapon to her husband's eyes.

"Yeah, woman, I did." He took another swig off the flask and sat it on the table, kicking the door shut hard with his foot; so hard that the latch didn't catch and it bounced back open. She saw it, but he didn't. His eyes said he wanted one thing, and he was gonna_ take _that one thing. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't get it, either. He went to her, holding her tightly; his hands bruising her wrists. At first, she didn't even fight him, but he was rougher than he usually was in the beginning, meaning it was only going to get worse.

"Robert, you're hurting me. I'll give you what you want, just... just calm it down some, _please_, Robert. She was begging him, he liked to hear her beg. He let go, only to smack her across her face, causing her to fall.

"Woman, I'll take what I want, and _how_ I want to take it!" He reached down, and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her. She grabbed his hands, and hit at him, trying to free herself. Her scream should have been heard by the neighbors but as usual, _if_ they heard her at all, they turned a deaf ear. Her fighting his advances only caused him to rile up, kicking her while she lay on the floor, trying to massage the pain from her scalp. He misjudged the distance, and it ended up being just a mild whack to her legs instead. As she pulled her hand away from her scalp to protect her legs, her fingers were tinged with blood. Not much, but just enough to be seen. The sight of her blood did something to him. Sent him off into another level of sadism.

"Ahh, _another_ one to shed blood today, huh! Worthless trash for a wife and worthless trash for a kid. Perfect!"

She looked at him, all her pain stopped hurting for a moment as she realized what he was saying. Suddenly that radio broadcast came back to her.

"Robert, what did you do?" she whispered.

"I didn't do nothing, ain't none of your business, bitch."

"Robert... did you hurt that boy?" her voice shook as she backed away from him.

He charged her, hitting her several times on the face. She shielded herself from his drunken angry blows as best as she could, the whole time screaming out louder and louder, "What did you do to that boy, Robert? What did you do?"

Finally he pinned her against the wall, with enough force that she momentarily saw stars in front of her. He pulled her arms out from her sides and held them tightly them above her head. She looked in his eyes, trying to focus; but saw the hate, the disgust - then finally the _lust_ that lived behind that evil reappeared. Robert leaned his head closer and forced his tongue into her mouth, while grinding his hips into hers. For only the second time in her life, she fought back. _This_ time, she fought back so hard, he had to back off, or he knew she would bite him. _Never_ had she fought him so hard. Not even the first time, years ago, when he made it clear he liked to be rough - did she fight like this.

"What did you do to that boy, Robert? Did you hurt that boy?" She kept screaming, over and over, no matter how hard he hit her, where he hit her, or how much blood he drew from her; it was that same question. It grated on his raw nerves like sandpaper. He wanted her _his_ way, and she wasn't letting him have it. Almost like she _cared_ for that little prick..._ wished _he was her son. That only fueled his rage.

"Yes, damn it, yes! I _killed_ that fucker! Shot him dead like a Thanksgiving turkey. He killed _my _son. Why shouldn't he die, too? Little piece of shit ain't got_ nothing_ worth having, so I took the only thing he had... his _life!_ Drained his blood right on the ground just like he did Bob's. Happy now,_ Bitch_? He killed your son; eye for an eye, right? Now get over here and do what you know I want!"

He pushed her to the bedroom, tearing her shirt in the process. Her mind collapsed, remembering how she didn't protect Bobby from Robert's ways, and now she hadn't protect another child who had never done anything to either Bobby _or_ Robert. She was just as much a part of that boy's death as she was of Bobby's. She had failed, again! In the moment that passed for these thoughts to materialize in her head, he had dragged her on the bed face down, forced her to her knees while her skirt was pulled up over her backside; the whole time, a strong hand was leaving bruises on the back of her neck. That's when she started screaming and kicking, anything to get away from the monster behind her.

"No! No! No! Why!" She was able to roll over and fight some, kicking him while being hit at the same time. "He never did anything to Bobby! _You_ did! _You _murdered our son! _You_! With your drinking and abuse! _Teaching_ him that was the right way to be! That_ that _was how a man is! No! No more, Robert! No more!"

She fell off the bed and ran out of the room, ricocheting off the walls in the hallway and slipping on the linoleum; knocking two framed photos of their family off the wall, the glass shattering as they hit the floor. He gave chase, grabbing her ankle when she slipped, but she managed to kick away again, cutting her hands and getting slivers of the shattered glass embedded in her feet. If he hadn't had any whiskey in him, she never would have been able to get away, but he had been drinking, and that made her only a tiny bit faster. She ran out the door, nearly falling as she tripped over their small hedges along the walkway.

Behind her, she heard the sound of him chasing, gaining speed over the open terrain of their yard. He caught her, and she then realized..._ he had his rifle._ Was it loaded, or empty? She _knew_ he would kill her. She tried to run faster, but he'd caught up in the moment it took for her to look back at him. He grabbed her and she fell, knocking them both to the ground. As they wrestled for control of the rifle - her for her life, him for the trigger - she realized there was a siren approaching. _Finally,_ she thought, _someone would put an end to this nightmare!_

"You killed that boy! He was a baby! He did _nothing _to you!" she screamed as he hit her, trying to get her to move her hands off the rifle.

"Yeah, slut, and I'm gonna do the same to you!"

The bolt had already been pulled back, and a finger found the trigger. The weapon went off, and another body lay dead on the ground.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


	19. Reflexes

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 19

**Reflexes**

XXX

The body was zipped in the black bag, then loaded into the coroner's truck. Not far away, the patient on the gurney was placed in the ambulance. Both vehicles left the house at about the same time, headed in different directions. Tom Mitchell looked at the mess around him. Neighbors watched from behind the yellow tape, most of them being quiet while others whispered and pointed. Among them were a few people that seemed out of place for this nice upscale neighborhood; teenagers with slicked back hair and worn clothes. Mitchell recognized their leader, Tim Shepard. Mitchell had busted his brother a time or two, and recognized Tim from all the times Tim had to come to the station to bail out the younger Shepard. This time, Shepard and his group simply stayed on their side of that yellow tape, bothering no one and definitely no one bothering them. That wasn't to say they weren't getting _looks_, but no one did anything. Mitchell gave them one last glance, and returned to the crime scene.

"What do we have?" Mitchell asked the young beat cop who was first on the scene.

"I was dispatched to this house ..."

"Rookie, don't give me the long story, just the nuts and bolts. What happened?"

The young cop looked at the older detective, and nodded. "Half- empty flask of whiskey on the table, broken pictures in the hallway, small amounts of blood mixed in with the shattered glass on the floor leading from the hall to the kitchen door, disappearing in the lawn. The master bedroom appears as if a struggle happened there, as well as in the kitchen area. Haven't found anything else disturbed in any of the other rooms. Neighbors called it in, reported they were at it again, but worse. Seems they get into it on a weekly basis. Anyway, the man was dead with a through- and- through single rifle shot to the chest and his wife laying motionless under him, both laying there on the lawn."

"How's his wife?"

"Shock. Hasn't spoken. Her wounds, from what I can tell, look like they'll heal. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her feet and hands cut up, bruises all over her in various stages of healing. Some blood on her scalp too."

"Davis!" Mitchell called to one of his female officers on the scene. She came over. "Go to the hospital, get Mrs. Sheldon's clothes – seal them up, they're evidence. See if you can get a statement."

"And if she won't talk?"

Mitchell looked at her. "Bring up the name _Ponyboy Curtis_. See if that won't get her jaw jacking. Use your feminine ways, your mothering instincts. Whatever you have to do. _Get a_ _statement_, Davis, I know you can."

Davis nodded and headed to her squad car.

Mitchell looked back at the rookie. "How did he look? Any chance he could have made it?"

The rookie shook his head. "No chance. He took the blast point blank with the barrel apparently lodged just under his ribcage. Looks like the weapon was sandwiched between them as they struggled for control; either of them could have taken the hit. It blasted a hole right out his back. Rifle's already been tagged and secured into evidence."

Mitchell nodded. "Thanks." He turned from the younger cop, and headed into the house.

The rookie was right, small smears of blood were everywhere on the floor; mixed with the glass either tracked or kicked all the way from down the hall, where two pictures of a smiling family of three looked out from their shattered frames on the floor, to the kitchen. Further down the hall he found the master bedroom, more traces of blood on the disarrayed coverlet, pillows laying haphazardly around the room. Something bad had happened here. Something _bad_ had happened all over the house.

He left the room, heading back toward the kitchen but stopped by a curiously closed door in the hallway. All the other doors were opened except this one. He opened it, finding another bedroom - a made bed, some sports gear - football, baseball and such, on the dresser. On the desk in the corner, he saw a small framed black and white picture of a young man, the _same_ young man pictured in the shattered frames outside the room; maybe seventeen or eighteen, black hair and dark eyes with his arms around a young woman, roughly the same age with lighter, softly curled hair. From yearbook pictures he'd seen while doing his research on the younger Bob Sheldon, he recognized the girl as Sherry Valance, the young lady he was dating when he was killed. This, he figured while looking around, was the younger Bob Sheldon's room, unchanged since his death. The kid who's poor judgment combined with his father's love of alcohol started this whole mess last fall. He shook his head. What a waste. What a _total_ waste.

He slipped back out of the room and returned to the kitchen, where his second- in- charge was looking at the overturned and disarrayed items on the table. "I want photo's taken of everything. If there's so much as a fork out of place in the kitchen, I want it on film. That goes for the whole house. Get me the evidence. All of it. Tag it, photo it, bag it, and _don't._.. for your own sake, lose it. Got me?" Mitchell instructed him. This was Mitchell's case, and he was going to make sure nothing was forgotten, nothing was missed.

They processed the scene for hours. Much to the discontent of the other officers, Mitchell wasn't going to let the mere absence of sunlight interfere with his duty. He was going to know every detail of Sheldon's miserable life, from the time he was born until the moment his worthless soul departed his cold dead body. He owed it to that kid laying in the hospital in Oklahoma City. He felt guilty, not having done more, sooner. Mitchell wondered if he had acted on his instinct instead of waiting for evidence, that kid would be enjoying his track trophies with his brothers and friends right now, not fighting for his life.

Hours went by, and finally as it neared midnight, the last officer closed and sealed the house. Mitchell posted a guard at the scene. Sheldon was the man State Officials suspected had tried to assassinate the Governor, afterall. He used that suspicion to authorize the guard. Only Mitchell, Owens, and the detectives from the Vice squad in Oklahoma City, knew the real score. Until the real motive came out; that he was just out for revenge against a kid and the Lt. Governor just _happened_ to be there, he was going to use it every way he could.

XXX

_The Next Morning:_

I watched Soda sleeping with his head laying on Pony's bed, his hand pulled up next to Pony's elbow as if they had been arm wrestling and both just quit. Soda gave up the fight to stay awake around midnight. Steve was reclining back in his chair, feet resting on the low windowsill, softly snoring away too. Two-Bit abandoned the chairs altogether, had gotten some blankets from the nurse and laid out on the floor, out of the way. I guess he figured if he was going to sleep uncomfortably, he may as well not have a kink in his back in the morning for it. I had watched them all, myself dozing very little throughout the night.

Part of me was terrified that little line on the heart monitor would go flat, part of me worried that he would wake up paralyzed, and still another part of me worried that when he _did_ wake up – he wouldn't be there at all. I didn't know how I would deal with that, but knew I wouldn't be able to care for him in that kind of condition. He would need round the clock care and I would have to have him placed in a facility that could do that for him. I also knew those types of places cost way more than Soda and I could ever afford. He would have to go to one run by the state, cared for by low waged nursing aides with minimal training who didn't really give a damn; where I knew his body would surely slowly deteriorate, and he would eventually be gone. That thought forced me to stay awake, holding the rosary and silently praying whatever prayers I could remember from both Mom and Dad's faiths, that he would be alright.

"Not getting any rest are you?" The night nurse softly said to me. She had been in periodically since coming on at eleven last night, just before the guys nodded off. We had softly chatted about Pony, his track abilities and some of our past. She already knew a good deal of our circumstances, being it was part of the paperwork I had to fill out hours ago.

"No, but I'm alright. As long as the coffee holds up, I can make it." I sat the rosary on the table by Pony and gave the nurse an exhausted yet polite smile. Earlier I had given her fifty cents, and she had been bringing me the coffee they made in their lounge, the good kind... more of someone's stuff from home. Not even the staff use the cheap hospital -supplied goods.

"Want a refill?" she asked, pointing to my cup.

"That would be nice, thanks. Have I used up my money's worth yet?" I didn't want to just take the stuff without paying, and I was sure I had drunk my fifty cents worth of coffee by now.

"No, you still have a few more to go. Don't worry about that." she said with a faint smile.

I watched as she removed a bottle of liquid from one of the many IV's Pony had. She noticed my gaze. I was too exhausted to be subtle.

"It's five now. Time to wean back the sedation. He'll start to wake up in an hour or so, after this gets processed out through his system. It's not going to be like waking up from sleeping, it'll be subtle, some twitching, maybe some movement. Then as he gets more awake, he's going to need pain medicine. I'll have it ready for him, but I get off duty at seven. I'll leave it for the oncoming nurse. I assume you'll be here?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm not leaving his side until I know..." I didn't have to finish, we'd already talked about that somewhere around three in the morning.

"I understand," she said with a tender smile. She brought in more coffee and returned to her work.

Steve started to stir from over by the window, then he got up and stretched.

"How's the kid?" he yawned, finally looking at me.

"Still out. They just came and took away the sedation, so he'll start to wake up soon."

"How long?"

"Maybe an hour before he even starts to … well ... hopefully move."

Steve looked at his watch, then went over to Two-Bit. Nudging him with his foot, he called down to our sleeping buddy on the floor. "Hey, Two-Bit, wake up."

Two-Bit opened his eyes and sat up. Steve threw down a hand and helped him up, then Two-Bit also stretched and rubbed his face. "What is it? Ain't you getting up kinda early?" he griped.

"No. The kid's going to be waking up in a while. I'm hungry, let's go get some donuts or something."

"Alright, but I need to get something from my bag in your car while we're at it." Two-Bit said, yawning.

"Fine, I hope it's your toothbrush. No wonder you can't keep a woman longer than one night. Your breath is deadly!"

"Well, now, yours ain't all _that _either...."

The two of them kept up their banter as they left the room, and I could still hear them as they left the unit. Still, that reminded me, and I got up and rifled through the bag the nurse gave me last night. Sure enough, it had a toothbrush and small thing of toothpaste in it. There was also a razor that looked like it would take off a few layers of skin but _never_cut a single hair, a comb and a spit basin. The kit was for Ponyboy, but by the time he'd be awake to use a toothbrush, I'd get his from the truck. May as well put that razor in the trash, none of us were_ that_ desperate, and Pony still didn't shave.

I took the toothbrush and paste and used the small sink in the corner of the room, at least happier knowing I wasn't going to uncurl anyone's hair with my own breath now. I'd shave later. I didn't even want to leave the room to get my own stuff stored in my luggage in the truck in case Pony stirred.

When I was done, I noticed Soda was sitting up, just looking at Pony's sleeping face.

"You okay, Sodapop?" I softly called. He looked over his shoulder at me, then back at Pony.

"Yeah. When are they going to wake him up?" He was dry eyed and steady, but worry still covered his face.

"They've already taken the sedation down, but the nurse said it will still be an hour before he wakes up. You've got time if you want to run down to the cafeteria and grab yourself something to eat."

"Not hungry, but I think I will step out a minute, use the men's room. Won't be gone long."

He got up, and headed out. I noticed he passed the men's room without stopping. I wondered where he was going, but shook my head. Knowing Soda, he wouldn't be far.

XXX

I wound my way back through the halls that Steve and I went down yesterday, knowing I had to turn where the large picture of the ocean was. I meant to do this last night, but was too tired, then forgot with everything else going on. Plus, I wanted to do this alone. I couldn't even explain it to Darry. A little further up the hall, I found it - opened the door and slipped inside.

Wow. The last time I went to church was when Pony and Johnny sort of talked me into it. I had dragged Steve along, and Two-Bit went too. We ended up quickly being bored out of our minds, and after laughing under our breath about the stupid hats the women were wearing, and playing our paper wad baseball game, Stupid-Bit decided to take a bet from Steve that dropping the book wouldn't force the minister to stop the sermon. We all figured the minister was ignoring the crying babies and the people fanning themselves, surely he'd ignore the accidental falling book. So, moron that he is, he let the book slam onto the hard floor with a bang. The whole place stopped what they were doing and everyone looked at us. Even the squalling babies had shut up for that moment. The minister was obviously teed off, and Pony and Johnny looked like they wanted to disown us. I felt bad about it later, cause we had embarrassed him so badly that he stopped going to church. It had been important to him, and we'd screwed it up. He never could make himself go back there again.

But here I was, walking up the aisles to the front pew to sit. This wasn't the time to be hanging out in the back. Besides, there wasn't anyone else here, anyway. This wasn't really a _church_, either, but it would have to do.

The first thing I saw, beside the glowing candles in the little jars off to the side, is the large stained glass window directly in front of me. It had three crosses in its pattern, an open bible towards the bottom and a dove in flight at the top. I just kept looking at it, trying to remember the one and only Psalm Mom had tried to teach me. I never got it right. Something about_ "_still waters" and "green pastures." There was only one line of the whole thing I could even sort of remember, I closed my eyes tight and thought hard on it … _walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil._ Then my mind forgets the rest. I wished I could remember. _Why _couldn't I remember stuff? Darry could remember anything, and Pony can dern near recite encyclopedias word for word after reading them just once. _I _had to be the dumb one.

I opened my eyes, knowing it wasn't enough. Part of one line just _wasn't_ gonna cut it. _He_ wouldn't listen to me anyway, not some dumb greaser that ain't going nowhere in life. But this wasn't for me, it was for Pony. I looked up at the stained glass again, and spoke so softly, even I couldn't hear myself. The words just breathed out of my mouth, straight from my heart. I hoped He heard it, I hoped He understood.

"Please.. oh, please...."

I wiped the tears off my face.. wishing I wasn't some big bawl baby, and left the room. The sun was coming up, and I wanted to be there the moment Pony began to wake up, hoping it _was_ Pony, the funny, deep, happy kid brother I remembered, who opened his eyes to us.

XXX

Sunlight was pouring into the room as we all sat around his bed. Steve was mumbling to Soda about how their boss wanted Steve to come in and work tomorrow, unless something drastic had happened. We all understood what _that_ meant, but no one commented on it. I had called my own boss who, as expected, gave me the week off - but stressed that I could come back sooner if I needed to. However, he was starting on a new site after that, and hinted if I didn't show up for it, I could be penalized with future work assignments. He was a generous man, but he still had a business to run. As long as Pony was cared for, I'd do what I could.

It seemed like forever, with only the low mumble of pointless conversation being passed between us. Over an hour had gone by already, which only fed my worry more. If he wasn't waking up, _why_ wasn't he? Then, as if to answer my question and set aside my fears, I saw the tiniest of movements from him, as the tips of his fingers slowly began to come to life. I sat forward on my seat, watching him intently.

Beneath his closed lids, I could see his eyes moving around some, searching, as if in the dark. His eyebrow's twitched, and he slowly, ever so slowly, began to turn his head from side to side.

"Ponyboy?" I softly called, hoping to help pull him from the haze of sedation that still covered him like a fog, but he never acknowledged me. Torn between wanting to sit by his side and ending this pain in my heart about his ability to walk again, I got up and went to the foot of the bed, pulling the covers off his bare feet while watching them for any movement, silently begging to see some.

Soda moved forward in his seat, taking Pony's hand in his while calling to him, talking in a low voice, pleading with him to open his eyes. "Wake up, Pony. It's us, we're here. Come on, _fight,_ Little Colt, fight...."

Pony slowly pulled his free arm up, hooked the blanket with his thumb and dragged the coverings from his chest. His free hand then grazed the tape holding the bandages to his skin. Two-Bit sat closer, taking my seat to be poised to pull his hand away should he inadvertently try to hurt himself in his groggy condition. "Pony, open your eyes, little man." Two-Bit coaxed, but his lids didn't open. I could tell the little movements he'd made was giving him quite a bit of discomfort over his stomach.

"Ahhgghh" he moaned softly, his face curling in a grimace. From the looks on all our faces, we all knew he was hurting. Pony could take a lot without consciously letting it show, but this was escaping his control. Simply put, he was in a lot of pain. It was ripping out my own heart, knowing he had to endure some amounts of this in order to wake up. His fingers began to dig into the skin around his bandages, and quick as lightening, Two-Bit protectively took Pony's hand in his. The day shift nurse came in, saw what was happening and nodded in understanding. Still, his feet hadn't moved.

"I'll go get him something for the pain," she said then headed back to the nurse's medicine room. I knew once she gave him whatever pain medicine she had, it would knock him back down, and I wanted this solved before he was numbed up.

"Ponyboy, move your feet! Wiggle your toes!" My tone was one I used when I was angry at him. Usually it got his attention, but right now, it didn't work. His feet stayed as still as ever. My hope was fading. Steve got up from his chair and joined me at the foot of the bed, also watching his feet for movement. Just to see one toe moving would be like Christmas for us.

"Pony, _damn it_ kid_,_ move your feet!" Steve tried. Pony remained stock still below his chest. His fingers were kneading back and forth, weakly trying to escape the firm hold Soda and Two-Bit had on him. I looked at Soda, who was staring at me, a bleak look on his face.

I looked at Steve, desperate for ideas, when one hit me. He'd been gnawing a toothpick nervously between his teeth for an hour now, and I reached over and snatched it from his lips. He looked at me with annoyed anger at first, but then everyone followed what I was doing. I quickly dragged the sharp end up the bottom of Pony's bare foot, and nearly collapsed in pure joy as Pony instinctively jerked his foot away. He wasn't paralyzed, just still reeling from the effects of the sedation. Whatever caused him to lose feeling in his feet at the track was resolved.

The nurse came in with medicine in a syringe, and injected it into his system. Within seconds, Pony's face relaxed and his hands calmed down. He was still again. Two-Bit laid Pony's limp hand at his side and got up, turning away from us facing the window. Nothing out there was interesting, but I could tell he just didn't want us to see him wipe away the tears I had seen swimming in his eyes after Pony jerked his foot away. Steve had some weird look on his face too, I couldn't tell if it was a smile or a smirk, but there was definitely relief there. Soda was still holding Pony's hand, always the last to let go.

"He'll walk again, Soda. He's gonna be okay." I said walking over to stand behind him. Soda nodded, but we both knew. There was still one more hurdle to jump before we knew for sure how he was. If the time spent without a heartbeat was more than his brain could take. That moan he managed wasn't consciously made, that was pain talking. I needed to hear _him_ talk. I needed to see his eyes again, and know they saw me back. Yet, that would have to wait a little longer.

I reached down to Ponyboy, running my fingers through his soft hair. "We're here for you, little buddy. Wake up soon."

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

A/N The Psalm mentioned is the 23rd Psalm. Just if you're interested.


	20. Recovery

**A Shot For Vengeance**

Chapter 20

**Recovery**

XXX

"Darrel? Can I speak with you a minute?"

I looked over and saw Officer Mitchell standing outside Pony's doorway. Considering the time, not yet eight in the morning, I had a feeling this wasn't just a '_check on the shot-up kid in the hospital_' type of visit. I gave Pony another look and got up. He was still asleep, the pain medicine combined with the last of the sedation to hold him under as it worked its way out of his system. Soda and the guys watched me, but they stayed put. None of them cared for the cop anyway. I followed him out to a conference room and closed the door.

"What can I do for you, Officer Mitchell?" I asked, wary of any more problems with catching and arresting Sheldon.

"I wanted to be the one to let you know that Robert Sheldon was dead. He won't be bothering your or your brothers again."

Okay, _now_ I was stunned. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked at him, staring, unsure what to say. "Dead?"

"Yes, dead. There was a domestic abuse call reported in progress at his residence yesterday evening, just as I got back into Tulsa from seeing you. By the time the dispatched officers showed up, it had escalated, shots were fired, and he lay dead in his yard."

"Shots?" Memories of Dally's death went through my mind, and I wondered who pulled the trigger _this_ time.

"Yes, shots. Or rather, _one_ shot. It's still under investigation, but we_ think _… from what the scene looks like.... Sheldon and his wife were struggling for control of the weapon, the same weapon we believe he used to shoot Ponyboy. It went off, and he was hit point blank in the chest - killing him instantly. I saw his body, Darrel. Like I said, the man is dead, he won't be bothering you or anyone else again."

I didn't know what to think of this new development. I'd had _enough_ of death, from both sides of the tracks. I turned and looked out the window in the conference room, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Can you be certain, _prove_ that Sheldon was the one who shot Pony? Could it have been his wife?" I wanted to make sure this really was behind us, that these people wouldn't bother us anymore.

"It wasn't his wife. Darrel, what I am about to tell you has not been released to the public, but I feel I owe you, you _and _your family, for all the wrongs that have happened to Ponyboy. In addition to raising his son in every wrong way possible, it looks like he also beat he wife. She's apparently endured abuse for years. One of my officers went to see her at the hospital in Tulsa, to get a statement and collect evidence."

"The hospital?" This monster knew no limits! It seemed incredulous to me that no one put a stop to him sooner, before it escalated to this point.

"Unfortunately yes. She's been hurt in more ways than I can imagine- beaten, abused... even raped... anyway, she's admitted that it was her husband who was the one tormenting your brother for the last few months, and said Robert admitted to her to shooting Ponyboy at the track yesterday. Of course, I can't use that statement in court, but I believe her."

He saw my reaction to his saying he can't use what she'd said, and was quick to put a palm up to silence me. I was going to start the riot act otherwise.

"Hold on, I have other evidence that I _can _use. Receipts in his car place him in Oklahoma City yesterday. Not just here in town, but at the stadium as well. The spent shell casing we found at the track matched the unused rounds in the rifle used in Sheldon's death. I spoke with them earlier, the ballistics people here in Oklahoma City were able to lift a print from that casing that we _hope_, and I truly _believe,_ will match Sheldon's."

"You found the shell casing from the bullet that struck Ponyboy?" I turned to look at him, amazed.

"Yes, we did. It still has to be proven, mind you, but I'm pretty confident it's it."

"Where was that son of a bitch hiding?"

Mitchell just looked at me, for a second I thought he wasn't going to say. "In a closed concession stand on the third level, facing the direction Ponyboy was running in."

I was silent again, unsure what to say or do. "Is this going to go to court? Will this turn into another nightmare for my brothers and me to go through?" Getting Ponyboy over that last mess took everything the four of us had, were we back at square one again? Pony's will is strong, but a person could only take so much, and he had already taken much more than his share.

He shook his head. "No, Darrel, I don't think so. It's over. Sheldon is dead. The evidence is overwhelming against him, and his wife backs everything up. All Ponyboy has to do is get better and get on with his life. How, uh... how is he?"

God, isn't _that _the question of the hour. "At least he's not paralyzed. He still needs to wake up more for us to determine how he is inside his head."

"Well, I won't keep you. I know you want to be at his side. And Darrel.. the things I've told you.... this hasn't been released. Understand?"

I nodding, understanding completely. However...

"I don't keep secrets from Soda, not where Pony is concerned. But I'll make sure word isn't spread around. Thanks, Officer Mitchell." I shook his hand.

"Tom. Please call me Tom. If you ever need anything again, don't hesitate to call me. Good luck with your brothers. You've done an outstanding job with them. Not many young men can take the circumstances you've been given and do as well with it."

I nodded. I knew he was praising me, but right now, I was more concerned for my brother than to be grateful. He nodded and turned to leave, and I went in the other direction back to Pony's room. Now I just needed him to wake up, to come back to us. If he could.

"What was all that about?" Two-Bit asked when I got back.

They were all looking at me, waiting for an answer. "Any changes?" I asked, nodding in Pony's direction.

"No, still asleep. Dar, what did the cop want?" Soda asked, impatient.

I looked at them, then closed the door. "Sheldon's dead," I quietly said. They all sat there, stony faced, staring at me. None of us would get our revenge, the bastard had just escaped life without our being able to thank him in our own way for the misery he'd put Pony through, put us all through. "They're still figuring out the details, but it looks like he and his wife were fighting for the rifle he'd used to shoot Ponyboy with. He took the hit, and ended up dead. The cops don't want it out, so it stays here... got it, guys? Until they release this information officially, it has to stay here."

"Christ!" Steve said out loud to no one. Two-Bit's response was along the same lines. Both nodded their understanding. Soda just stared hard, looking at Pony's sleeping face.

XXX

Another hour went by before Pony began to move again. As before, the motion was slow, his fingers slowly pressing into the sheets around where his hands lay. "Pony?" I softly called, wanting to watch his reaction to my voice. There was a slight turn toward me, and his forehead creased as if in concern. I gently brushed my fingers over his worry lines, and his features softened. "Can you hear me, Pone?"

At the moment that I spoke, Steve and Two-Bit, who had been thick in a whispered conversation of their own across the room, stopped what they were doing and came over. I'd got the gist of what they were talking about, knowing Steve was going to have to go back to Tulsa before the end of the day today, as he had to go to work tomorrow. The boss had mysteriously given me a few extra days off, which I was grateful for. I didn't understand it, but was too concerned for Pony to ask about it, either. Two-Bit was contemplating staying with us or returning, torn between his family and ours. I could tell neither wanted to leave, at least without knowing what the outcome was going to be. Finally, the pain medicine the nurse had given Ponyboy was wearing off, and he was waking up again. Here we go, I thought, round two.

Pony swallowed, then gave the slightest nod. His eyes were moving under the lids again, and Darry, who sat opposite me on Pony's other side, leaned forward. "Ponyboy, you're safe. We're here. Open your eyes now, come on, it's time to wake up." Darry coached. Pony's fingers spread out, as if he were probing around. I put my hand down to where he could feel it, which he did; then he laced his fingers in mine. Touch. Wordlessly, he spoke volumes.

His eyes opened, at first only a small sliver of his green iris's visible, then he was able to blink back the sunlight of another morning. He looked at me with his huge green eyes filled with confusion and discomfort. "What happened?" His voice was barely above a whisper, cracking from not being used in a day, and very hoarse. We all smiled, but to _me_, that voice was another miracle.

"What do you remember, Pone?" Darry asked softly.

Pony swallowed, grimacing and sucking in air to silence a cry as he now tried to turn towards Darry. Every movement he made caused him to wince.

"Easy, Ponyboy. Don't go squirreling around too much. Just rest." I called to him.

"I was … running," Pony started, ignoring my instructions to lay still. He grimaced in pain as he took another breath. "Then, something..... ahh... hit me.... and I fell. My.... my stomach hu... hurts," he squeezed his eyes shut hard as another frown framed his face. His hands wandered to the bandages covering his stomach, feeling them and sucking in an occasional breath when a spasm would hit. I didn't hold him back this time, letting him feel what his mind told him to feel, but sat ready to pull his hands away if it looked like he was going to start pulling on things. "What...... what happened?" he finished.

I looked at Darry, unsure if we should tell him.

"Pony, there's no easy way to tell you this, but … but that person who's been messing with you, well, he took a shot at you. You've had a rough time of it, but you're gonna be okay now." Darry's explanation was simple, yet I knew we'd have to tell him the rest when he was ready for it.

"Shot?" he asked in a quiet shocked voice. He turned to Darry, then to me, disbelief on his face.

"Yeah, honey. Shot. You had surgery and everything, but you're gonna be okay now. Don't think on it too much. Just let us know if you need pain medicine, okay?" I added, patting his shoulder and giving him a grin.

He nodded his head and didn't pursue any further questioning on what happened to him. "Guess I lost this year too, huh?" he said in a dejected voice. This was to have been _his_ year, he was _ready_, and now it was all gone. No matter when they rescheduled the State meets, he wouldn't be able to run for it.

"No, Pony. This year, you ran the race of a lifetime, and_ won._ I'm so proud of you, buddy." Darry gently moved onto the side of his bed, careful not to make the bed shift too much. Every single movement caught Pony off guard and made him wince. Darry carefully leaned closer to him, and Pony looked straight up into Darry's thawed blue eyes. I remembered Pony once referred to Darry's eyes as frozen ice, but he definitely couldn't say that anymore. "I love you, Ponyboy. God, I love you, kid." All pretense of being tough... gone.

I'd never heard Darry being so tender with Pony, at least not in a long time. I looked at Steve and Two-Bit, who had been watching the whole scene play out in silence. Two-Bit reached over and patted Pony on his leg through the blanket, while Steve gave an approving nod and rapped his knuckles on the bed. He looked at Two-Bit and jerked his head to the doorway, and they both headed out for a bit.

"We'll be back in a while. Want anything?" he asked. I shook my head. I had everything I needed right in that bed, thinking, talking, and moving all four limbs. Nothing could be better than that.

XXX

Watching Darry hovering so close to me, I wondered what had happened that they hadn't told me. Darry was_ never_ this way, and I wasn't sure how to take it. Once again, I could see tears hiding in the corners of his eyes, so something drastic had to have happened. The last time I saw him cry was when I came back from Windrixville, he doesn't drop the tears easily. It takes a lot to break my big brother. A whole lot.

"Darry, what is it, what's happened?" I barely got out, my throat feeling like sandpaper. He sat back up and got off the bed, turning away from me while he wiped his eyes. Whatever it was, he wasn't answering me, so I turned to Soda, who was still at my other side.

"Soda?" I asked, hoping he had some answers.

"Watching you get hurt... wasn't easy on us, Pone. Not knowing how you'd recover... or if you'd recover... was worse. That's all, kiddo." He slipped me a smile, one of his grins that always cheers me up.

Darry came back over, smiling too, and pulled the chair closer to the bedside. I could tell there were details they kept back - I wondered why, but was getting tired and decided to pursue it later. I had been feeling the bandages on my stomach, the skin under it and around it tender to even my slight touch, and I wondered why my chest was all bruised up. That hurt, too. What the heck had happened? Darry started to move away, but I reached over and put my hand out, not really able to stop him if he really wanted to go, but he stopped instantly anyway.

"I'm okay, Darry, really. You ain't got to worry about me, I'm gonna be fine." I found his hand and took it, holding him as tightly as I could, but as weak as I was, my grip – like my strength, was gone. I gave him a feeble smile and tried to watch him, to read him... figure out what was wrong. However, everything took on a bleary halo effect, and I knew it was going to be nap time again for me soon.

Soda saw it, Darry too. "Sleep, Ponyboy, we'll be here when you wake up." Soda softly said. My other hand was wrapped within his fingers, so with both my brothers holding me, I let go of my fight to stay awake and drifted off into a sea of peace.

XXX

I woke in a different room, Darry was sleeping in a chair and Soda wasn't around. "Darry?" I called, and in an instant he opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty." he teased.

"Looks like you're the one who needs to sleep. Where am I now, and what did you do to Soda?" I tried to sit up, but it just wasn't happening. The moment I tried to even lift myself up, my stomach screamed in protest and I fell back against the bed with a yelp.

"Careful, Pony. Soda went to walk the guys to their car, he'll be back soon. They had to return to Tulsa... Steve still has to go to work. Two-Bit said he'd swing over at our house and pick us up some clothes and other stuff and return tomorrow." He reached over and helped to lift me to a sitting position, then folded an extra pillow behind me, finally lowering me back on it. Better, I had to admit. I noticed I was wearing some stupid hospital gown now, but most of the sticky things that were on my chest before were gone, and most of the machines that beeped and buzzed were gone too.

"Now you're in a regular room. They moved you from Intensive Care while you were sleeping. Doc wants you to stay a few more nights for more antibiotics and to make sure your heart is doing okay. Plus, there are a few other things you'll need to do in order to get sprung out of here, but we'll talk about it later. How are ya feeling?"

"Tired. Disappointed about the meets. I know I'm out of the rescheduled matches. Just... just what _happened_? Who did this, and _why_? And what was that about my heart?" I was more awake this time, and questions came easier. Answers, however, weren't.

He moved closer to me, and I could tell he had the answers I wanted by the look on his face. However, he was sizing me up, judging if I could take it. I gave him the same look I did that night when the cop came over to the house. I wanted the information. I wasn't a kid, and if someone wanted to take a shot at me, then I wanted to at least know who and why. The door opened, and Soda came in. Seeing me, he let out a huge grin and came over, ruffling my hair. It was already a mess, so I didn't care. We bopped knuckles as he pulled a chair over, then looked at Darry again. I still wanted answers.

"The man who did this to you was Robert Sheldon. Does that name ring any bells?" Darry said. Soda settled right down, realizing the topic he'd walked in on.

I thought about it, Sheldon. It was familiar, then I remembered. Vaguely, at least. "That's the kid Johnny killed, ain't it? How did he...?"

"Robert Sheldon _Junior _was the kid Johnny killed. Sheldon_ Senio_r was his father, and apparently wanted revenge for his son's death. Since Johnny was already gone, the cops think he was after you instead for revenge."

That set me back a bit, thinking how screwed up the Sheldon family must be. "Has he been arrested? I mean, he didn't _kill _me... so he's still _after_ me... right?"

"No, Pony... Sheldon's not going to bother you anymore."

"You said that once already, Darry. Obviously, the man's got a death wish for me."

"Ponyboy..." Darry stopped, I could tell he was weighing his words carefully. "Sheldon's dead, honey. He died hours after he shot you. Cops already told me. He's not going to bother you or us or _anyone_ ever again."

That hit me hard. So many people have died since last fall, and I was somehow involved in all of it. Darry could read my mind on this, knew that's what I was thinking, and put his hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"This wasn't you're fault. Sheldon was a bad apple, devil in disguise, rotten to the core. What happened was his own fault. You're in no way responsible. Read me, Ponyboy?"

I nodded, wishing again that I could go back to that night, so long ago in the past, and just have gone home and not gone to that stupid lot. Why didn't Johnny and I just go to my house and hang out in front of the fireplace and watch TV? Why? Damn-it all to hell, _why_?

"This was Sheldon's fault, Pone. Not your's. Okay?" Soda asked, looking at me closely. I nodded.

"What was that about my heart?" I wanted to change the subject, and fast.

Soda and Darry exchanged looks again, and both pulled back from how they'd been sitting. This was something neither wanted to talk about, but I was gonna press the issue.

"Pony, did anything .. um... _weird_ happen to you, maybe … something you _can't_ or _don't_ understand.. while you were .. um.. asleep?" Soda asked.

I looked at him blankly, wondering what he was talking about. Then I turned beet red thinking of what he could be talking about ...did I .. oh hell, please not that! I uncomfortably pulled my legs in, stopping only when the pain in my stomach forced me to.

Darry laughed a bit, realizing what I thought Soda meant. He shook his head. "No, Pony, not that. What he's trying to not say is, while you were on the operating table, you lost a lot of blood and your heart... stopped... for a few minutes. Do you remember any of that? Did anything.... um... happen to you?"

"I died?" I asked, bewildered to no end.

"No, you ain't dead, Ponyboy. Your heart just stopped beating. That's why you have those bruises on your chest. They had to do CPR until your heart restarted. That's one of the reasons why you have to stay here a while longer, to make sure your heart is okay."

I thought about it, but couldn't remember anything weird happening. No strange voices, no bright white lights. Only a weird, comfortably peaceful feeling that everything was going to be okay, no matter what happened. I just drifted along, in peace. But, then again, that could have been the medicine.

"Nope, nothing weird. Sorry." I smiled some, and Soda just laughed.

"Kiddo, you amaze me."

"Thanks, I try." I said back.

XXX

We sat playing cards and talking the rest of the day, Pony taking a nap or two along the way, especially after getting pain medicine every few hours. He was waking up again, and I'd given Soda some money to get us some food from the cafeteria. Pony couldn't eat solids yet, they had given him some liquidy stuff to sip on, the plan being to gradually move him back to normal foods as his intestines healed. It would take time, but that was something he had plenty of.

"How's your stomach, Pone?" I asked while Soda was gone. He wouldn't admit to hurting, unless it got unbearable. By then I wouldn't have to ask, it would be written all over his face. I found it funny that for headaches, he'd swallow aspirin by the handful, but for this... a legitimate whallop in the stomach, he'd sweat it out to the last minute. Right now, though, he seemed comfortable.

He pulled his gown up and the sheet down and looked at his stitches, the nurses having taken the bandages off when he was moved to this room. The bruising was bad – it even made me cringe, but he just poked around it, not phased a bit.

"Okay, I guess. Tender, hurts to mess with it." He said, then looked at me again. I just shook my head. The kid was unreal!

The door opened, and Soda was there with two bags of food. Pony's eyes went right to the bags, and I knew he was hungry, but the doc had been firm... absolutely no solid food, not to even sneak him anything. His re-sewn insides couldn't take it. Soda and I usually ate while he was asleep, but he took too long to get back this time.

"Hey Pony, feel up for some company?"

I looked at Soda questioningly, wondering who was here. Tim hadn't called to say he was coming by, Two-Bit wasn't due until tomorrow. Besides, they would just come on in, not bothering to knock or ask if Ponyboy wanted company.

"Well, fix your gown, and pull up your blankets. I found someone wandering the halls wanting to see you. If your ready for visitors, that is." Soda had a mischievous smile on his face, making me wonder what he was up to. He was still perched at the doorway, blocking someone behind him.

Pony got himself all tucked in, then looked at Soda with the same questioning stare I had, then, once satisfied he was appropriately covered for company, moved out of the way. I smiled, thinking about how wise he was to make sure Pony was thoroughly covered, but the smile that went across our youngest brothers face could dern near light up Tulsa. From around Soda stepped Megan, smiling just as much as Pony was. Lordy have mercy, two hormonal teenagers in the same room.

XXX

"Megan! What are you doing here?"

"I begged mom until she caved to bring me up here. She and Mark were coming up to check out the college anyway, so she dropped me off for an hour or so to see you. Is... uh, is that okay?" Her eyes met Darry's, and for whatever reason, she seemed nervous.

"Darry, how bout you and me go eat in the lounge?" Soda said, nodding his head at her from behind. From where Soda was standing, only Darry and I saw it. Darry nodded and got up.

"Behave yourself, kiddo," he softly said to me as he got up. "Remember, you're still hooked to a monitor, the nurses can tell if your heart rate speeds up at the desk." They both smiled at me as they left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Sorry bout that," I said after they left.

She shrugged, pulling up a chair. "Doesn't bother me. Remember, I have an older brother too. So, how are ya?"

My turn to shrug. "Shot up, from what they tell me. I'll be fine, but I won't be ready for the state meets, no matter when they reschedule it. I figure it's got to be soon, Nationals are in two weeks. They have to have the State winners lined up for it if Oklahoma is going to be represented at all. Damn. This was my year, I could feel it. It's gone now, though. All that work for nothing." I felt my own little pity party wanting to start, so I tried to change the channel. "You should do well. If Darry will take me, I'll go to watch you cross that finish line in your events."

She smiled, dropping her hands on the bed close to mine. What the hell, I took one and held it. Felt nice to hold her hand. Her soft brown eyes were captivating to look into.

"The reschedule is this weekend, once again at the same track. This time, they'll have more security, but the news reports said they had the shooter. Was it that guy... the one that was after you?"

I nodded. "That's what they tell me. But he's dead now, from what the cops told my brother. I dunno the whole story, didn't get into the details yet." In truth, I just didn't want to talk about it. She seemed to understand.

"Funny, his shot for vengeance ended up being the one that cost him his life, huh?"

I looked at her and thought about it. "You dig okay, Megan. You dig okay."

XXX

Pony stayed in the hospital another few days, Megan came by to see him once more before he was released to go home, but called him everyday. He wanted to go see her run at the restart of the State meets, and as much as I wanted to let him go, he was just too weak to do it. The doc had him on bed rest for another week at home, and he was slowly getting his ability to eat real food back.

The only thing that seemed off about him losing his heart beat for those eight minutes seemed to be his muscle strength and coordination. Soda and I both noticed it while he was in the hospital. He'd go to pour some water from the pitcher, and miss the cup entirely. His vision was fine, just the equilibrium was off. When he went walking, he'd have trouble going in a straight line. The doc said it would improve in time, as his brain worked out the rewiring. He was lucky, very lucky. By summer, they said, he should be back to normal.

Watching him improve daily made me realize how close I came to losing him forever. This was the second time I had nearly lost him, and I hoped that the troubles that have followed us since last fall were now over. Pony deserved to have as much of a normal teenage life as he could have, given all he'd lost since turning thirteen.

He seemed happy enough, despite not being able to compete. The Governor sent him a plaque in appreciation for being an outstanding citizen in the face of adversity... meaning _'hey thanks for taking a bullet'_, and the folks that organize the State Track and Field events sent him an honorary first place trophy for his running abilities, but to him it meant little. He wanted to prove himself on the field to earn the awards, not be given them in consolation. Soda didn't get it, but I understood. The trophy sat on the mantle for two days, then disappeared into the closet.

He did, however, receive an invitation to attend the National meets out in California, but he chose to decline the invitation. Seems Megan and her parents were coming to Tulsa that same week, and he was making plans to hang out with her. Teenagers, Heaven help me.

Somehow, I think everyone up there had a hand in doing just that. Not long after I brought him home, I looked up into the bright blue sky and whispered, "Thanks, guys." Somewhere, in my own heart, I felt it.

_You're welcome_.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose


End file.
